Once Upon a Time, the Grass was Green
by nascently
Summary: Glimpses of Snape's life, from the time he began teaching at Hogwarts to the time of his death. Snape's point of view, focusing primarily on his feelings for Lily. Flashes back often to their childhood.
1. Prologue

This is to be a multi-chapter story of Snape's life, from the time he began teaching at Hogwarts to the time of his death. Snape's point-of-view, focusing primarily on his feelings for Lily, but also on Harry. Flashes back often to his childhood. Not a lot of action so much as it is a character study, my perception of the most elusive, ambiguous, and enigmatic character in the Harry Potter universe.

This story will be about twenty chapters long, perhaps more, and each chapter will be a thousand pages at minimum. I plan to update at least once a week. This is my first Harry Potterverse story. I hope you enjoy.

Disclaimer: I of course am not JK Rowling and do not own these characters, make no money from writing about them, et cetera.

* * *

><p><strong>Prologue<strong>

_"Hey, Sev?"_

_"Yes?" Severus looked up from his Potions book and mustered a frown at the familiar mischief in Lily's smile, though an unfamiliar blush almost obscured the freckles on her cheeks._

_"What is it?" Severus asked tersely, narrowing his eyes with suspicion. Lily's blush deepened further._

_"Oh, nothing," she replied, glancing down at the ground and plucking a few blades of grass with her dainty, ink-smudged fingers. Severus noted abstractedly (and not for the first time) that the grass was nearly identical in color to her eyes, which at the moment were partly shadowed by her foxish eyelashes. He'd always heard that redheads made the most powerful witches, and now he knew this was true._

_"I doubt that it's 'nothing'," Severus observed, turning to his book again and scratching a note onto the margin of the page with his quill. "Surely 'nothing' wouldn't cause you to blush like that."_

_"Am I blushing?" Lily giggled, and out of the corner of his eye Severus saw her bring her palm up to her mouth to hide her bright smile. He smiled too, behind the protective curtain of his hair._

_"Are you about to tell me that you fancy someone?" Severus asked, and try as he might to keep his tone neutral, the very words caused a hot rage to well up in his throat. "For I can see no other reason why you should manage such an un-Evanslike bashfulness."_

_"I'm not being 'bashful'."_

_"Aren't you."_

_"No!"_

_"Well then?"_

_"Well what?"_

_"Do you fancy someone?"_

_"Maybe," she shrugged. His rage cooled into an iron lump that choked him. "But never mind that," she added, waving the topic away with a hand. "What I want to know is: have you ever kissed someone?"_

_The quill paused in his fingers, and it was only after he realized he'd been staring at his page for a solid minute that he formulated the wherewithal to answer "Why do you ask?"_

_"Oh, no reason." That giggle again. "I'm just wondering if you did, that's all, and if so, what was it like?"_

_Severus bit his lip. After a moment, he replied "Since you're asking me this, I take it that you've never kissed someone yourself?" Merlin, please make it so._

_She shook her head so vehemently her hair was a copper blur. "Never."_

_"I should hope not."_

_"What does that mean?"_

_"It means that I can't think of a single person in the world who'd be worthy of such a thing."_

_"Oh, Sev!" She shoved him on the shoulder. "But you didn't answer my question."_

_"Well, what do you think the answer is?" he replied testily, pressing his quill so hard against the page that the nib left a small hole._

_"Why not?" she asked, a shimmer of merriment in her voice. "You know what they say about boys with big noses, after all."_

_"Lily!" He nearly dropped his quill at that, and felt his cheeks burn with a blush of his own. Merlin's beard!_

_"Sorry. But that's what Mary told me."_

_"Mary's a fool."_

_"So it's not true then?"_

_"I refuse to continue this offensive conversation," Severus muttered, lowering his head so that his hair shielded the entirety of his face, and surreptitiously adjusting his clothing since the comparative appendage in question had begun to stir._

_"All right, all right, Mr. Prude! What I was going to say is that maybe we should practice."_

_"Practice what?" Severus snapped, glaring at his book._

_"Practice kissing." Pause. "You know, so that when it happens for us, we're ready."_

_He thought his heart would burst from hate and jealousy. "Practice with whom?" he spat out._

_"With each other, stupid."_

_The quill quite fell from his hand this time, and the page before him blurred into fog._

_"Sev?" Lily asked after a moment, peering into his face. Though the tunnel of his hair, her eyes were electric, and while the blush beneath her freckles was gone, her lips seemed redder somehow than they'd ever been. She was a Muggle neon sign of desire and desire's fulfillment._

_"I..." he began, and stopped. Looked down at his book. "I don't know," he managed to finish, barely a whisper._

_"Am I that horrible then?" she asked with a laugh, though a tremor of nervousness ran through her voice, and it was like an arrow to his heart: before his courage could fail him, he dropped his book, leaned forward, and pressed his lips to hers, savoring the sweet warmth of her mouth until he drew away at last in fear of her disgust._

_As it turned out, she hadn't been disgusted. Not in the least._

It had been the last day of August, the day before their fifth year at Hogwarts was to begin-the year where everything had ended for him. But on that afternoon, by the river near Spinner's End, under the shelter of their friendly tree, he'd tasted the only sweetness he was ever to know in this life, a sweetness Lily Evans had been generous enough to share with him as she would a treat from Honeydukes. The memory of that golden sunset hour echoed in his soul like the ring of a bell.

Years later, he would ask himself: had she meant to let him know her feelings that day? Had she hoped that he'd say something akin to the words that had been buried deep in his heart since the moment he'd first seen her? It was an idea that both soothed and tortured him, in that his feelings might have been reciprocated, but if so, how differently his life could have turned out had he not been such a coward!

He worried the idea like a sore tooth, especially when that damnable Potter boy sneered at him over his cauldron in Potions class-how dare he! Did that arrogant brat not know that if Snape hadn't been such a fool, The Boy Who Lived could well have never been born?

But no, Potter didn't know, and he would never know, if Snape could possibly help it. If he'd had his way, no one in the world would have known it, either. For the one person who should have known-the only one who should have known-was gone forever, no trace of her left save for the eyes of the boy with the face of Snape's worst foe.


	2. August 1982

Hogwarts

August, 1982

The day before the beginning of term, Professor Severus Snape, former Death Eater and now newest faculty member (as well as youngest) at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, climbed to the top of the astronomy tower. The hem of his black robes billowed about his feet from the wind as he reached the top of the steps, then turned to survey the land below.

For some reason, when he was a student, it hadn't really occurred to him that Hogwarts was located in Scotland. He supposed he was aware of the fact, but somehow it never made an impression on him as it suddenly did just then when his gaze lit onto the vast purple swathes of heather blanketing the distant moors. He tried to think, but decided he'd never been up here this time of year, at least during daylight hours. The land surrounding the school was...Well it was beautiful, really. Apparently, he hadn't bothered to notice until now.

It never had to be so though, for him. Hogwarts was many things to Severus Snape, but most importantly there was something which it wasn't-his father's house-and that made all the difference. Strange, that he should be back again, and in this capacity. As an adult he loathed schoolchildren as much as he had when he was a schoolboy himself, and his lips pursed with the bitter irony of his current situation. At least, as a professor, those tiresome creatures would be forced to show him at minimum the appearance of respect, and he'd have the pleasure of handing out detentions at will to those who did not. In that regard, anyway, his tenure here as a teacher would be an improvement over his schoolboy days.

However, it still irked him greatly that Dumbledore denied him the privilege of teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts. Severus knew that his knowledge of the Dark Arts was vastly superior to that of the bumbling imbecile who was hired instead. Dumbledore didn't tell Severus in so many words, but Severus suspected that the headmaster was still leery of Severus's predilection for such things, perhaps even assuming that Severus would actually teach the students how to perform the Unforgivables, and upon each other, too (not a bad idea, Severus thought with grim amusement). At any rate, he was hired to take over Slughorn's position as Potions master, since Dumbledore remembered very well that Severus had been one of the best Potions students in his year.

_One_ of the best.

It could have been worse. He could have been hired to teach Divination, for instance. But the dissipated woman whose prediction had led to the downfall of both Voldemort and the one thing in the world that had mattered to Severus had the happy fortune of teaching that worthless class instead. So, Potions it was.

He'd spent the greater part of the last two weeks setting up his office, his living quarters, and his classroom to suit his needs. He didn't require much for his personal comfort, but his orders to the Apothecary in Diagon Alley were numerous, detailed, and often obscure. He even obtained some ingredients from Knockturn Alley. No silly Amorentia potions would be brewed in his class; unlike Horace Slughorn, Severus was not sentimental. Instead, the students will learn the Draught of Living Death, the uses of the bezoar, and even perhaps attempt (and inevitably fail) to concoct the newly invented Wolfsbane potion, for who knows but that Dumbledore might decide to let yet another werewolf attend Hogwarts during Severus's tenure. Severus wearily supposed that one of these days he'll end up teaching a vampire. The fact that one hadn't been admitted to Hogwarts already (at least as far as Severus knew) was more surprising than not: Dumbledore was a collector of sorts, and he enjoyed his strange little pets. Like a true heir of Godric Gryffindor's legacy, he favored Muggles and Muggleborns above all. And like a true Slytherin, Severus had no use for Muggles, as the only ones with whom he'd ever interacted were tiresome fools. That one of the most brilliant witches he'd ever known had been a Muggleborn was another thing entirely.

The wind had died down a bit, and from Severus's vantage the world seemed silent, almost at peace. Merlin knew that the wizarding world, anyway, was enjoying a peace it had not experienced for nearly ten years, and even before then there had been the simultaneous Muggle and Wizarding Wars. For some, the nightmare was over. For others, it had just begun.

Not since Halloween the year before had the now faded Mark on Severus's forearm given even the faintest twinge. He was one of the few persons with that mark who were not now in Azkaban, two others being Igor Karkaroff and Lucius Malfoy. Both cowards in their own way, they'd done their best to pretend they'd never truly been Voldemort's men. Severus cynically supposed that, as Lucius was one of the wealthiest wizards in Britain, the Ministry of Magic probably accepted Malfoy's lies along with the gold that Malfoy undoubtedly slipped into Ministry coffers. A coward, yes, but Lucius was no fool.

Severus had neither money nor cowardliness. All he had was cleverness, and loyalty. And his loyalty had been, and always would be, with one person and one person only. The single time he'd let that loyalty slip, he'd lost everything.

At that moment the wind stirred, this time from the south-and there it was, the scent of the lake, the murky mud of the unfathomable depths overlaid with the delicate essence of the cattails along the banks: a scent he always associated with _her_, since it was exactly similar to the smell of the river near Spinner's End where they would hide away in summer, and here in Hogwarts he and she would sit by the lake itself and study their homework or gossip about the dunderheads and fools in their respective houses, especially criticizing Potter and his gang of hooligans and hatching schemes to "get them brilliantly" as she'd say in her silvery voice and the sting that arose in his eyes right then was not from the wind but memory's everlasting ghost.

He shook his head impatiently and blinked the tears away. If things come to pass as Dumbledore predicts, then the Dark Lord will rise again, and Severus must remain stalwart. Occlumency fails when one's emotions are compromised, and one day-in a year, in ten years, in twenty-he will have to face the Dark Lord's withering gaze once more, and in no way can he permit the wall of his mind to be breached. He would give his life to protect Lily's son if he must, and if (or when) the Dark Lord returns, then his mind must be as unforthright as the grave.

But not yet...not yet. There was still time. Never enough time to grieve, perhaps, since his grief was never-ending. But time enough to remember that the grass by the river near Spinner's End had been green, once, and that once upon a time his heart had not lain in his chest like a dead bird in a cage...


	3. Halloween 1982

Hogwarts

Halloween, 1982

It was Severus's misfortune to discover that teaching was an even more abysmal farce than he'd predicted. As he sat at his place in the Great Hall and surveyed the sea of black pointed hats before him, he suppressed a weary sigh, and asked himself yet again why he was doing this as opposed to, say, brewing potions in Knockturn Alley, or anything else, really. For one who disliked children as much as he, this profession was akin to being Crucio'd, especially since the students were so incredibly dull-minded. Severus doubted if even James Potter himself had been as hopeless at Potions as these fools.

The students' merry young voices grated on Severus's nerves, and as he lifted his goblet to his lips he half-heartedly hoped that Hagrid, the big oaf, had spiked the pumpkin juice with firewhiskey. Perhaps then Severus could better endure the jarring cacophony of laughter and shouts that rang throughout the Hall.

_At least the Slytherins know how to conduct themselves with dignity_, Severus thought to himself as he curtly nodded to a waspish-looking member of the Rosier brood who'd saluted him. Since Severus was the only Slytherin faculty member, he became head of Slytherin house by default, an appointment that turned out to be less unpleasant than he'd expected. He could endure coldness and sarcasm much better than merry chatter and pranks, though the Slytherin students were, as they've always been, as slippery and untrustworthy as snakes. But they were dignified, and seemed to regard Severus with genuine respect. The specter of the Dark Lord still haunted the old Slytherin pureblood families, and not all of them spoke gladly of Voldemort's defeat. For those, a former Death Eater was held in high regard.

As he gazed around the Hall again, Severus tried to decide which were worse, Gryffindors or Hufflepuffs. He of course despised Gryffindors as a rule, and would have done so even if that loathsome Potter and his band of fiends had not been sorted into that house, for the shrill brashness of Gryffindors irked him beyond what he could endure. On the other hand, Hufflepuffs were worse than inane, and Severus could stand almost anything better than undiscerning good-naturedness. As much as he'd hated Potter, Severus bore him a grudging respect because while Potter had been thick in the classroom, he had a cunning and cruelty to rival any Slytherin's. But in the end, Potter had unwisely misplaced his trust in someone who'd betrayed him, that foul accessory to murder whom Severus hoped rotted in Azkaban, death was too good for him, he'd torture Black himself yes he would, he would, he wouldn't even blink.

Glancing up from this unpleasant reverie, Severus found Dumbledore gazing at him, a strange expression in his cool blue eyes. Something flickered there, and in Dumbledore's gaze Severus caught a glimpse of a partially destroyed house. Severus kept his expression neutral, but he nodded his head slightly, and Dumbledore nodded too, then turned away.

For it was this day a year ago that Voldemort had murdered Lily Potter. Severus was almost glad that there was at least one person here who remembered too, and grieved, though Dumbledore's grief could be nothing, nothing at all, to Severus's own.

* * *

><p><em>Their first Halloween at Hogwarts had fallen on a Sunday, and as there'd been no classes that day they'd spent the cold afternoon exploring the grounds around the lake, Lily asking Severus for the hundredth time to tell her all about the Giant Squid, then suggesting ways they could coax the Squid to make an appearance just for them. Severus surmised that the Squid probably hibernated during the colder months, and Lily pouted, throwing a stone into the lake as she said "But I want to see him now!"<em>

_The thin clothing beneath his robes didn't do much to keep the chill of the afternoon at bay, but he didn't mind much, for Lily's presence warmed him well enough, and he'd spent far less time with her of late than he'd wanted. Ever since they'd been sorted into separate houses, it seemed as though he had access to her even less than he had in Spinner's End, and so every moment they had alone together was a moment to be savored, even if the weather were colder than Merlin's tomb._

_The dull iron grey of the sky hung heavy over the lake, but Lily's hair was a burst of bright color against it; and as she picked up a fallen leaf from a nearby tree and made it spin in her mittened hand, Severus felt as though she were the epitome of Autumn itself, crisp and russet and apple-sweet._

_"Do you think we'll bob for apples?" Lily suddenly asked, with that uncanny ability to pluck an image right out of Severus's head._

_"You mean at the feast tonight? I don't know," Severus shrugged. "Mum never said anything about apple bobbing. But there'll be cauldron cakes," Severus offered, and was rewarded with a bright smile as Lily said "Oh, I like those! Honestly, Sev, I've never had so many sweets in my life as I've had at Hogwarts, I wonder what my mum would think? I don't dare write to tell her though," Lily laughed. "She probably wouldn't let me come back again."_

_"She couldn't keep you from coming back," Severus said severely. "You're a witch, you belong here."_

_At this Lily bit her lip, cast her eyes down._

_"Some people think I don't belong," she said quietly._

_"Who says that?" Severus demanded. "Who told you that?" _

_She glanced up again, said "Some of those friends of yours. I overheard Rosier tell Mulciber in Potions that Muggleborns shouldn't be here."_

_Severus sidestepped the accusation a bit and replied with "_You_ belong here, Lily. You're about the keenest witch in the school, and the smartest too."_

_Lily smiled brittlely at that, and reached for his hand. "As long as you always think so, Sev."_

_"Always," Severus replied firmly, grasping her mittened hand in his own. _


	4. Christmas 1982

Hogwarts

Christmas, 1982

Perhaps the most surprising aspect of Hogwarts for Severus was discovering that Albus Dumbledore's company was not entirely tedious.

While the Headmaster had a Gryffindorian fondness for Muggles, pranks, and other such foolishness, and he smiled more than Severus felt was strictly necessary, Dumbledore also happened to be one of the few wizards in the world whom Severus knew for certain was more brilliant than himself, and Severus respected intelligence above all other things. Shockingly, Severus also discovered that, despite their difference in age, they had some things in common: for instance, aside from the obvious fact that they were both skilled Occlumens and Legitimens, they were also intensely private men who were not forthcoming with personal information. And as far as Severus could tell, Dumbledore, like himself, had no close ties to anyone.

Maybe it's better that way. Over the last year Severus had decided that nothing was worse than losing a beloved, and perhaps Dumbledore had learned that lesson too.

At any rate, Dumbledore from time to time would invite Severus to his chambers, where more often than not they would spend a not unpleasant evening playing wizard chess. The first time Dumbledore had extended the invitation-as they passed each other on the way out of the Hall on Halloween night after the feast-Severus had been taken by surprise, and he'd replied "Is there a problem, Headmaster?" for he could not imagine any reason why Dumbledore would wish to meet with him in private, unless it was regarding something dire.

"Not at all," Dumbledore had smiled in response, his eyes twinkling over his half-moon spectacles. "Merely a game of wizard chess perhaps, and a glass or two of mead."

Severus had been curious despite himself, for as a student he'd never gotten the impression that Dumbledore much cared for him, even less so when Severus was a Death Eater. But too much smiling or not, Dumbledore, like any intelligent person, sometimes craved intelligent conversation, and Severus knew that of all the faculty and staff at Hogwarts, he himself was the only one who came even remotely close to Dumbledore's intellectual level.

Severus certainly hoped Dumbledore wasn't inviting him out of pity. Nothing offended Severus more than having someone feel sorry for him. He didn't want anyone's comfort, particularly since no comfort was to be had.

But it turned out to be exactly as Dumbledore said, a game of wizard chess and mead (which Severus politely but firmly declined) and an illuminating conversation about the various Hogwarts symbols: the sword of Gryffindor, the cup of Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw's lost diadem, and the Slytherin locket. Not too many people knew about these items, but Dumbledore did. And Severus ended up staying so long in Dumbledore's chambers that he went to bed many hours later than he normally would have.

Since then Dumbledore had invited Severus to his chambers a little over a half a dozen times, and each evening proceeded much like the others.

On this particular night however, after Severus had to endure the Christmas feast and all the foolishness associated with it (including having to sit next to a bilious Hagrid whose gaseous emissions almost caused Severus to be sick), Dumbledore did not summon the chess set as usual, but merely leaned back in his customary chair with a smile.

"Headmaster?" Severus asked, puzzled.

"I thought perhaps a chat tonight, instead of a game," Dumbledore replied pleasantly.

Instantly Severus was on his guard. He never trusted anyone who wanted merely to "chat," least of all someone like Dumbledore.

"About what, exactly, Sir?" Severus asked warily.

"How you're enjoying your time at Hogwarts so far," Dumbledore said. "I trust you find everything to your satisfaction?"

Severus raised his eyebrows, nodded imperceptibly.

"Excellent. And Potions? You enjoy teaching it, do you?" But Dumbledore's tone told Severus that Dumbledore already had a fair idea of what the answer was.

"'Enjoy' seems to be a favorite word of yours," Severus observed neutrally.

"Well of course it is!" Dumbledore smiled. "Enjoyment is one of the loftier goals in life, wouldn't you agree, Mr. Snape?"

Severus grew impatient. It must have shown on his face, however, since Dumbledore suddenly laughed.

"I expect you don't enjoy much, do you, Severus?" Dumbledore said after he'd recovered from his mirth. "That's a shame. Perhaps if you'd consider going to Zonko's when you're in Hogsmeade, or brightening up your wardrobe a bit-nothing as drastic as red, I'd say, but maybe a bit of green to start with, we don't want to be too rash-"

"I'll not waste my time with such foolishness, thank you very much," Severus replied tersely, to which Dumbledore clapped his hands together with approval.

"Now that's more like it, Severus! I prefer your snappish ways to the cold politeness you've shown me ever since..."

Severus waited, but Dumbledore didn't continue, and Severus knew why.

With a tremendous effort, Severus swallowed the anguish that rose up in him at the memory of that fatal night when he'd come to Hogwarts a broken man and had sobbed like a child in Dumbledore's presence. And then, the cold rage of offended pride took the place of anguish, and Severus hissed like a serpent "And so you bring up such things to bait me, do you? For what reason, might I ask? Because you 'enjoy' seeing me suffer? You won't be the first."

His target hit the mark; Dumbledore's face was crossed with an expression that on another man might have looked like conscience, but then Dumbledore shook his head slowly, and said in a quiet voice "No, Severus, I do not want to see you suffer. But I want even less to see you an empty shell. Even grief is preferable to feeling nothing."

"And you would know from experience?" Severus asked coldly.

"I would," Dumbledore replied.

Severus turned away from him, gazed out the window at the soft snowflakes blurring the night sky.

"What does it matter to you," Severus said wearily after a time.

"Strange as it may seem, I consider you a friend."

"A friend," Severus spat as though the word had a foul taste. "Where was that 'friendship' while Potter and his gang nearly led me to my demise?"

"You weren't a pleasant child, Severus," Dumbledore now replied coolly. "And you were even less pleasant as a teen. But you are different now than you were back then. Quite different, I should say."

Severus clenched his teeth in anger. Of course he was different now! How could Dumbledore expect him not to be! He'd seen, he'd known, he'd _witnessed_ what Lily's death had done to him! Was he mad?

"Are you mad?" Severus asked venomously. To his annoyance Dumbledore merely chuckled in response, then said "Many have asked that question before you, Severus. And I'm quite delighted to tell you that the answer is: I'm not certain."

"I believe I'll retire now," Severus said at last, moving toward the door. "Good evening, Headmaster." He wasn't the least bit tired yet, but he wasn't about to stand there and endure Dumbledore's caprice for another minute.

However, the staircase had just begun to take him down when a shadow loomed over him, and he looked up to see Dumbledore standing there at the top of the staircase.

"When I'd said you were unpleasant, Severus," Dumbledore's voice floated down to him as the stairs carried him lower and lower, "I meant that you were unpleasant to _most_. There must have been something else to you-something extraordinary-for a girl like Lily Evans to have loved you as she did."

By the time Severus's mind was able to absorb these words, Dumbledore was gone, and the stone gargoyle had already leapt aside and was waiting impatiently for Severus to pass.

Instead of moving toward the dungeons however, he fled, quiet as shadows, through the castle to the great main doors. Out he went into the silent snow, the crescent moon hanging from the sky bearing a faint light onto the drifts that was more of a glow than a radiance, but it lit his way well enough to the edge of the lake.

Severus gazed down though the limp strands of his hair to the black waters of the half-frozen lake, his feet growing numb from the six inches of snow he stood in but he didn't care. For, it seemed to him that deep beneath the black ice he detected something gleam with a misty shimmer, something that swirled like quicksilver for a moment before it resolved itself into...

But no, too late, it was gone.

* * *

><p><em>"We shouldn't be out here."<em>

_"Bother what we ''shouldn't' do, haven't you had enough of rules already?"_

_"But what if we get caught? We could end up in detention, or worse!"_

_"I thought you were the Gryffindor, not me."_

_"All right then, Mr. Smarty-pants! Fine. But if we get in trouble..."_

_"...I'll tell Dumbledore that I Imperius'd you to come out here, so the blame will all be on me."_

_"What's Imperius'd?"_

_"A curse to make someone do what you want."_

_When Severus received no answer, he turned round to find Lily had stopped walking and was standing there staring at him with an expression of sorrow on her face._

_"What is it?" he asked._

_"Severus," she replied quietly. "Have you ever done that spell?"_

_"Of course not!" Severus replied. "It takes loads of skill to cast that curse, and I'm just a second-year!"_

_"You don't mean that," Lily said, taking a step toward him and plucking at his sleeve. "You don't mean you'd cast it if you could."_

_When Severus didn't reply, she sighed, grabbed his arm._

_"Promise me, Severus," she whispered. "Promise me you'll never cast that spell. It's a horrible thing to do to someone."_

_And the way her pale skin in the moonlight glowed with a strange phosphorescence as though she were but a ghost, he almost promised her what she wanted._

_As it was, the hoot of an owl interrupted them, and they both started back in fear until they glanced each other and smiled sheepishly._

_"Just an owl, see?" Severus said, reaching his hand out to her. "It's all right. Come along then."_

_He led her to the edge of the lake, where they looked down at the ice that bordered the silent banks, her hand still in his. _

_"What do you want me to see?" she asked. _

_"Nothing special. Just..." He gestured with his other hand to the lake, to the surrounding land where their footprints left a track in the pure smooth snow, to the sharp points of stars up above them. "It's so quiet, isn't it? Almost like we were the only two people in the world."_

_Lily shivered a little at that. "I wouldn't like that, would you? How lonely it would be."_

_Severus repressed a sigh, thought to himself How lonely it is, otherwise._

_"But," she added, nodding firmly, "If I had to be stuck with just one person in all the world, it'd be you."_

_Her little hand tightly gripped his own, and Severus decided when they got married, they'd do it here, so that she could say that again, for all time._


	5. June 1983

_"Severus."_

_"Hmm?"_

_"Sev-er-us."_

_"Yes, Lily?"_

_"Nothing, I just like saying your name."_

_"Is that so."_

_"Yes. Se-ver-us. Sev-er-us. Sever-us. Did you know that your name sounds like Sever Us?"_

_"How very clever of you."_

_"You tease, but I mean it! Wizarding folk have such interesting names. Severus Snape, for instance. Albus Dumbledore. Sirius Black-"_

_"That ass."_

_"Yes he is, but his name is neat."_

_"Hmph."_

_"Whereas I'm just Lily Evans. Plain old Lily Evans."_

_Severus set down his notes for the Astronomy exam, looked into her eyes. They reflected the glow of the sun on the summer grass, creating a double layer of green in her gaze. Her small mouth was squared into a pout, which Severus decided was only half pretending._

_"Lily Evans," Severus said, scooting closer to her and staring right into the black of her pupils. "You're a lot of things, but trust me, plain isn't one of them."_

_"Such as?" Lily asked without missing a beat, the pout replaced by a coy smile._

_"Vain," Severus replied, suppressing a grin when her smile twisted into a frown. "Temperamental," he added when she punched his arm. "And-and spoiled!" he yelped when she yanked his hair and he got up and ran away from her, but she was right behind him._

_She chased him along the banks of the lake, scattering ducklings and knocking first-years over, till they both collapsed in a panting heap of laughter some distance from their starting point._

_"You-you prat!" she shouted, pummeling him with her fists even as she laughed fit to burst. "I...am not...spoiled, Severus Snape!"_

_"But you agree you're, ah, a bit temperamental?" Severus rejoined, smirking each time a blow landed on his head. _

_"I hate you," she giggled, then lay down next to him and stared up at the sky._

_"It's going to rain soon," she observed after some moments, pointing at the clear blue above._

_"Nonsense, there's not a cloud in sight."_

_"It's true, though," Lily nodded sagely. "I can predict these things."_

_"Meteorology magic?"_

_"Well, why not? Wizards can make storms, can't they? So why can't they predict them?"_

_"True, but I doubt you have that ability."_

_"Remember that time when I said it was going to hail, and then it did?"_

_"That was hardly a 'prediction' since it was already raining."_

_"But no one knew it was going to hail."_

_"It was possible to make an educated guess."_

_"Let's bet on it then."_

_"Fine."_

_"If I'm right, you have to do my History of Magic homework for a week." Lily snickered when Severus emitted a groan in response._

_"And if you're wrong," Severus replied, "you have to do my History of Magic homework for a week." He'd wanted to request something else, but he wasn't entirely sure how well it would be taken._

_"Deal." Lily picked up his hand and clasped it into hers for a clumsy handshake._

_Where they lay, her head was less than a foot from his own, and he could smell the scent of her hair, something both flowery and like sawdust, and he could see its copper shimmer out of the corner of his eye; he could feel the sweat of her palm where her hand had been in his, the sky above was a brilliant azure, and neither Potter nor his merry mates were to be seen. At that moment something in him swelled with what he supposed others identified as happiness, and he felt he couldn't love her better than he already did. _

_It had rained that day, after all._

* * *

><p>Hogwarts<p>

June, 1983

It was the end of term, and with a great deal of relief Severus had given his last exam the day before, sending the students off with dire maledictions of their inevitable failure to amount to anything useful in the world before he closed down his classroom for the summer, and packed his trunk to be sent to the Malfoys'.

Lucius had graciously invited Severus to the Malfoy estate for the season, and with only a few misgivings Severus had accepted, partly because he didn't have anywhere else to go besides Spinner's End, and he avoided that place as much as he could since the years had hardly softened his feelings for his father. But it was also because Lucius always had news of the goings-on in the Ministry, and as a former Death Eater comrade, Lucius trusted Severus with all manner of useful information, which Severus was more than complacent to accept. The main drawback would be that he'd have to endure the Malfoy brat climbing into his lap and tugging on his hair, but as the child seemed genuinely fond of him, Severus supposed he could tolerate it temporarily.

He was to leave this morning, after breakfast; but he tarried a bit, waiting until the last student had left the grounds for Hogsmeade Station before he stepped out of the castle and made his way toward the lake.

Severus had visited it only that once on Christmas night, because to go there while students crawled the grounds was not to be contemplated. Also, he wasn't entirely sure how his heart would respond if he were to see the lake again in daylight, and (aside from his madness on Christmas) he didn't try to find out until the school was completely abandoned for the term.

The last time he'd set foot on the soft ground of the bank beneath the June sun, his left forearm had been as bare as his right, and his suffering was due to bitter scorn, rather than the tragedy of loss. Back then, he'd gone to the lake by himself to say a silent farewell (forever, he'd thought) to Hogwarts, and to all the might-have-beens that he knew now would never come to pass.

But today, it wasn't a schoolboy's revenge against his rival that he thought of as he gazed at the quiet, peaceful blue waters of the lake; no, he thought of the last time he'd ever felt a glimmer of hope here, the very last time Hogwarts had been a place of happiness for him. For, despite their growing differences, at the end of their fourth year Lily and he had still been the best of friends, and he still had harbored the belief that one day, when he was great enough and powerful enough, when he was good enough, she'd be his, his forever. One day.

He gazed up at the blindingly blue sky, where there wasn't a cloud to be seen for miles. Ah, Lily, where are you to make it rain for me? It was never your prediction, my dear, but your will, that had made it come to pass. You could never fool me. And that is how I know things would have worked out differently, if only you'd wanted it to.

Severus with some clumsiness crouched down and picked up a smooth grey stone from the bank; held it against his chest for a moment; then threw it as far as he could into the water. It disappeared beneath the surface with barely a ripple, as if it had never been.


	6. August 1983

Hi everyone, thanks for your comments and views and adding the story to your alerts! It's very motivating, and I'm glad to know that people are liking it.

I thought I should let you know that I have most of the story sketched out, including the final chapter and the epilogue, though now and again I may add to what I've originally planned if it occurs to me to cover some aspect of Severus's life that I hadn't thought of previously. Also, the chapter "June, 1982" should have been entitled "June, 1983" and I've changed it in the story.

Anyway, here is the next chapter (a little earlier than expected), and it takes place somewhere else besides Hogwarts for once. Note that there are adult themes in this chapter, but nothing explicit. Hope you enjoy it.

P.S. I'm having a time dealing with the intricacies of this site, so forgive me for any errors and weirdness and such. I'm used to other formats. :)

* * *

><p>Malfoy Manor<p>

August, 1983

"Ah, Severus Snape! Or _Professor_ Snape, I should say," was how Lucius Malfoy had welcomed Severus to Malfoy Manor that summer, chilling Severus with his cold smile and clapping him on the back with one hand as his other hand snapped at the house elf. "Dobby! Take Professor Snape's trunk to his chambers." Then to Severus: "Well, my old friend, and how is Hogwarts? Much changed since were were students there, hmm? And how does our dear Headmaster do, eh?" and such like, making no demur in trying to worm out of Severus any useful information he could obtain about Dumbledore. Severus had expected this, of course, but perhaps not within five seconds of his arrival in Malfoy Manor.

Apart from his host's cunning (but unsuccessful) schemes to obtain incriminating intelligence about Hogwarts' headmaster, Severus's visit hadn't been a terrible trial, all in all. Lucius allowed Severus to roam the grounds at will-the Malfoy family graveyard alone was the size of Spinner's End in its entirety-and many pleasant evenings were spent at the dining table, where, apart from being served the sort of delicacies not even found at Hogwarts (and each of which would most likely cost his father a year's wages), Severus had the pleasure of being attended to genteelly, if coldy, by Mrs. Narcissa Malfoy _nee_ Black. He'd remembered her from their Hogwarts years together of course, and while he'd never exactly fancied her, she'd always fascinated him, the way a marble statue might have fascinated him for its sheer inanimate perfection. Oddly, she seemed always to have returned the fascination, and this was manifested by the way she kept her eyes on his face as though it didn't disgust her, while she asked him polite questions about the most unimportant things, when she wasn't hinting at his being a favorite of the Dark Lord's. At such instances Lucius would shoot her a look, and she'd fall silent for a moment, before asking Severus if he would like another helping of the gelleed bicorn spleen.

Now and again, as Narcissa presided over the table with such elegance and grace, and Lucius's smile warmed noticeably as he gazed upon his marble-statue wife, something deep within Severus seemed to sigh, and he'd wonder momentarily what his life would be like had this been _his_ table, and the woman at the head of it had hair of fire instead of ice, and she bore the last name of Snape instead of Malfoy...

But such thoughts were fortunately interrupted by the Malfoy child tugging on his robes to be lifted "Up! Up, Sebbis!" and Severus would oblige with resignation, wondering after all how he would have felt about having a shrieking, wriggling tot of his own forever in his lap. But he knew without question he would gladly accept even that, for _her_.

Despite all these pleasantries, a most unwelcome circumstance arose during his stay at the Malfoy estate, wherein at least once a week the Malfoys invited to dine with them one of a revolving array of suspiciously unmarried witches, who eyed Severus with curiosity, if not downright speculation. As Severus well knew that his physical appearance and demeanor hardly inspired feminine ardor, his suspicions hardened into an uncomfortable, and revolting, certainty.

After supper, Severus and Lucius customarily retired to Lucius's study, where the house elf kept Severus's crystal glass of century-old firewhiskey filled to the brim (despite the fact that Severus hardly tasted it) while Severus and Lucius discussed the important events of the day. Lucius was a fool, but he knew quite a bit about the goings-on in the Ministry of Magic, and Severus was aware that Dumbledore would be most keen to hear of these things, never mind his own spies in the Ministry.

On this night, however, after the most recent lady had been offered up to him for his scrutiny, Severus had shaken his head after they'd sat down in Lucius's dragon-leather armchairs, said "It won't do, Lucius."

"Whatever do you mean?" Lucius asked, his pale brows raised innocently as he snapped his fingers at the house elf to bring them full glasses.

Severus smiled blandly. "The rather artfully artless rotation of unattached witches you've invited to dine with us at least once per week."

"Narcissa's friends," Lucius carelessly waved a hand in the air.

"Of course," Severus bowed. "However," he went on, nodding to the house elf as it set a glass of firewhiskey on the table next to Severus, "I believe I must insist that if any of them are hoping to become attached, they'd do best to look elsewhere."

"But why?" Lucius asked now, giving up the ruse. "Are they all so unappealing as that?"

"It's not a matter of 'appeal', but rather of inclination. I do not wish to become attached at present."

"'At present'?" Lucius scoffed. "You mean _ever_?" Severus blinked. But then, Lucius went on in a more affable tone, "In all the years I've known you, Severus, I've not once seen you with anyone, much less heard of you forming any attachment at all. Narcissa has informed me-"

"Ah, this is Narcissa's doing, is it," Severus said coldly. He was annoyed at the Malfoys' prying aspersions.

"She's trying to help you."

"I did not ask for 'help'."

"You're the the most hard-hearted man I've ever met. Why, Annetta Borgin-even Annetta Borgin doesn't stir you?"

"I'm afraid I've completely forgotten which one that was."

"She was just here tonight! And she's..." Lucius paused, and Severus didn't need Legitimens to tell that Lucius was trying to find a description that was not titillating or otherwise salacious.

"I believe our ideas of 'appealing' are quite different," Severus observed.

"But she's charming, Severus! And, as her grandmother was a half-blood," Lucius added, lowering his voice as though speaking of something not fit for polite company, "she should have few complaints about your own parentage."

"I should as soon kiss a werewolf."

"Severus!"

"Why not foist these women on your house elf instead, you're wasting your time with me."

"What is the matter with you?" Lucius exclaimed in a tone of annoyance. "Why on earth do you hold yourself so precious from women? It's unnatural! Or...or is it not women that you prefer?" A raised eyebrow and a knowing smirk here.

Severus growled angrily and muttered dark incantations regarding Crucio-ing Lucius, to which Lucius sighed with impatience and said "Well then? You're not a Muggle monk, are you? Or one of the Druids from the Lost Isle? You didn't take a vow of celibacy, did you? Or is it..." Lucius's face changed, and he continued in a quiet voice "It's not the Evans girl, is it? Do you still-"

"Enough!" Severus roared murderously, lunging from his chair and clutching the lapels of Lucius's robes in an iron grip. "_Enough_."

Lucius tore himself from Severus's grasp, started back in surprise.

"Upon my word, Severus," Lucius whispered. He narrowed his icy eyes and studied Severus's face for a moment, then shook his head, said "Well whatever the matter, it can't be any good for you to lock yourself away with merely your lacewing flies and pickled pixies for company." He chuckled. "Why, even dear Bellatrix has found herself a mate, and if _she_-"

"What can it matter to you?" Severus said acidly. "How can you speak to me in such a way?"

"I thought we were friends, Severus."

"I'm weary of 'friends'."

"As you like," Lucius said lightly. "I'll not trouble myself again on your account." _Good_, Severus thought. "However," Lucius added with a nasty smile, "it seems to me that this rather unreasonable temper of yours is the result of a little...er, _frustration,_ shall we say? Therefore I advise you to attend to it in some manner, lest you find yourself in St. Mungo's with the Longbottoms."

"You-"

"But frankly, this conversation has grown tiresome," Lucius interrupted in a bored voice, ringing the bell for the house elf. "Dobby! Dobby, you miserable creature! Where is my firewhiskey?"

Later, as he lay in the luxurious bed in the rooms appointed to him, Severus mused bitterly on the Malfoys' intervention into his private life. He didn't believe for a moment that Lucius was doing so out of mere friendship. No, it must be something more-undoubtedly to strengthen his connections to one who was privy to the goings-on at Hogwarts, since Lucius was as ambitious as he was cowardly. Severus supposed that Malfoy had lied to those women and told them that Severus had vast amounts of wealth, for he knew that no witch could possibly like him for his own personal features.

Even if one had, though-even so, it made no difference. For how could Lucius understand? How could anyone understand that the ordinary, average witch was _nothing_ in comparison to _her_? Might as well fashion a ring from a lump of coal instead of a diamond. Might as well drink from a night basin after having sipped from the Lake of the Lost Isle...

* * *

><p>"Severus?"<p>

"Mm."

"Severus, wake up."

"Mm?"

"Sev!"

At that his eyes flew open immediately, to find...

To find, hovering over him, phosphorescent in the night like a ghost, the mischievous smile a part of him died with when it did. But its owner was older, somehow, than he'd remembered-the age she'd be now, had she lived.

But how-

"Lily," he whispered. And then, his gaze was everywhere: over the freckles on her cheeks, her eyes that glowed with witch fire, the lock of copper hair rusted by the night that fell from her temple and brushed his cheekbone. He reached out to touch the lock of hair. It was warm against his fingers, as though she'd just woken up, and soft as silk, as he'd always remembered. He held it to his nose; it smelled of flowers, and sawdust, and a spicy hint of musk.

At once he began shaking his head, shaking it back and forth as he clenched his hands over his face, no, no, it can't be. He knew what this was; it had happened before.

"Severus? What's the matter, love?" Spoken so tenderly it stung his eyes.

"You're not real, you're not real," Severus insisted, even as soft hands tried to pull his fingers from his face.

"Hush, of course I am," she whispered, and he felt her lips brush his brow.

"You're a dream," he murmured, now holding her hands in his and gazing up at her sweet face through his tears.

She smiled wistfully at that, then said "It's real for us."

As she lay down on him in the bed, he suddenly realized that they were both unclothed; and right then he didn't care if it were a dream, if she were a ghost, or if he truly were mad and in St. Mungo's after all, for all that was necessary right then and there was to savor every last particle of her, every last second of this moment before the dream ended, the ghost departed, his mind darkened.


	7. Halloween 1986

Hogwarts

Halloween, 1986

"Check, Severus."

"Not quite."

It had been exactly five years to the day since Lord Voldemort had been vanquished, and in all this time not a single hint of him had stirred across the land. Indeed, the mark on Severus's forearm had faded to a mere shadow, and it had not once tingled with even the barest warning of activity. By all appearances, the Dark Lord was gone for good. But Dumbledore thought differently.

"Well, Severus," Dumbledore said that evening, peering down at the growling knight that Severus had sent his way. His mead sat untouched on the spindly table next to him, and his clear blue eyes were inscrutable behind his spectacles. "It's been five years since our friend Lord Voldemort made his exit. What do you suppose he's doing now?"

Severus regarded Dumbledore silently over the chessboard for several moments before slowly rolling up his sleeve to show Dumbledore the faded mark.

"Ah, yes," Dumbledore nodded. "Well, we know at any rate that he is not powerful enough to summon his Death Eaters to him."

"But you believe he's at large," Severus replied. "How can you be certain?"

"I have my reasons," Dumbledore said cryptically. However, when he saw the impatient expression on Severus's face, he smiled briefly, and added "All in good time, Severus. I must be certain that my surmises are correct, first. But trust me when I tell you that sooner or later, you will learn all."

Right then Dumbledore glanced down at the chess board, just in time to witness Severus's knight smash his queen to bits.

"Pity," Dumbledore said cheerfully.

The game concluded soon after that, and Severus allowed himself a small sip from his own glass of mead-it did not do to be unguarded in Dumbledore's presence-before he made his departure.

But even as Severus rose from his seat, Dumbledore cleared his throat, said "Before you leave, Severus, a word, if you please."

Severus nodded, lowered himself onto his chair once more. Dumbledore might be sometimes capricious, sometimes capriciously false, but he had proven to be far more brilliant than Severus had thought even a few years ago. Perhaps even more brilliant than the Dark Lord himself.

"Albus?" Severus queried.

"You know of course that it's also been five years since Harry Potter was orphaned," Dumbledore said, leaning back in his chair and steepling his fingers beneath his beard.

Severus turned away, murmured "Of course I know it."

After a moment of silence, Dumbledore restated "Of course you do. Who else alive could feel as keenly about it as you, save for the boy."

When Severus had nothing to say to that, Dumbledore continued "And so it's quite striking to me, Severus, that after all these years, you've never once enquired about him."

"There is nothing to enquire about."

"Aren't you the least bit curious?"

"No!"

"And why so strong a No?"

"Leave me alone." This time of year, there was no snow outside the windows, merely a dull black sky whose stars were diminished by a thin fog.

"He's not like James, though he favors him," Albus said, as though having penetrated the weakness in Severus's Occlumency. "Rather he's more like his mother, and he's got-"

"Yes yes yes I know, he's got her eyes, _pre-cise-ly_ her eyes," Severus sing-songed sarcastically. "Why don't you repeat it a third time."

"Severus."

Albus reached out his hand, lay it on Severus's own, his eyes full of concern.

"Severus, I would not have mentioned it, unless I thought you might want to hear how the boy did."

Severus whispered "Where is he. I thought you didn't know."

"Oh, I know," Dumbledore said in a tired voice-and for the first time, Severus seemed to see just how old the man really was. Perhaps a century older than Severus, at the very least. "But I have not seen him since he was an infant," Dumbledore went on, "and it is best that way. Yet let me assure you that where he lives, he is guarded by enchantments so strong, not even I could break them." A smile here. Then a frown as he added, "Nor Voldemort."

Indeed not. If Dumbledore couldn't, then most certainly Voldemort never would. This was the height at which Severus's admiration of Dumbledore had been raised. He, like so many others, was merely Albus's dog.

Something of Severus's pride stirred as he now said "Well then, Headmaster, how do you know whom the boy favors, then."

Dumbledore's face fell a little, and he replied with almost a touch of reproach "I'd thought we'd moved past the point where you'd called me Headmaster, Severus."

"Albus, then."

"Well." Dumbledore perked up at once. "I'll have you know I have a squib living near the boy's protective home."

"And?" Severus asked despite himself. Dumbledore smiled, and Severus rebuked himself for his weakness.

"Well. Since you've never asked in all this time, Severus: he lives with his aunt."

Severus tried to think, but could not recall any sister of James Potter that he'd heard of.

"James had no siblings," Dumbledore said, reading Severus's mind again. "I refer to the mother's sister."

Lily's sister. That awful girl, none other than-

"But why?" Severus exclaimed, getting up from his chair. "Why her? Why _her_, in all of the world?" That monstrous girl! How could Dumbledore have done it?

"One day you will understand the power of enchantments that live on in blood," Albus replied tersely. "But until you do, I'm afraid I will have to keep the whys and wherefores from you, my friend."

_Friend_. Severus was tired of that word, especially since it seemed always to hold him for ransom.

"You can't know what she's like," Severus accused. "If you did, you'd never-"

"It wasn't up to me. It was his mother who'd made the spell. I'd only acted on the inevitable."

Albus stood up from his chair, and that was how Severus knew he'd get no new information right then. It was petty of him, but Severus left without a farewell, because he had too many ghosts to attend to this night, to worry about the touchy feelings of the living.

* * *

><p><em>"I saw that awful boy the other day. He was skulking by the river in some ridiculous cape, which was as threadbare as his regular clothing."<em>

_"Don't speak that way about him, Petunia."_

_"How can it matter to you? I thought you two were through."_

_"We are. But it's not nice."_

_"_He's_ not nice! He's scrawny and dirty and rude! And his hair! Have you seen it lately?"_

_"I don't care. He could be covered in mud from head to toe, and it'd still be horrible of you to speak so about him."_

_"But why?" Petunia asked, and right at that moment, for once, there was something genuine in her voice. "Why?"_

_"Because," Lily replied, a sob in her voice. "Because no matter what, he's a part of me, Petunia, and always will be. It's as though someone reached down and took a handful of dirt from the riverbank in Spinner's End, and made both of us from it. Do you see?"_

_"You're mad."_

_"You just don't understand."_

_"What about James?" _

_"Well." A pause here. "James is handsome. And sweet, in his own way. Don't look at me like that, Tuney! He's also rich!"_

_"Rich?"_

_"Yes, indeed. What it would mean for Mum and Dad! And he wants to marry me, you know." _

_"He's still a wizard, though. Can't you marry a normal person?"_

_"Oh Tuney, when have I ever been normal?"_

_For a rare instance the girls giggled together, but then Petunia's sharp voice grew sharper, as she said "Does that Snape boy know? I swear, when he saw me at the river he looked as though he'd hex me."_

_Lily sighed, said "It's over for us. He's gone to the dark side, and he doesn't care for me anymore." Pause. Then, "What happened to him, Petunia? What did those monsters do to my Sev? Maybe you were right about him, after all," she finished, her voice a defeated sigh. "Anyway-and here's a secret, Tuney, I know how much you love secrets-James asked, and I said Yes. We marry this spring, and that's that."_

_At that point Severus fled silently from beneath the Evans's porch, running as fast as he could to the river so that he could dare himself to drown himself in its depths. The black serpent on his forearm couldn't save him; he knew, now, that nothing ever would._


	8. January 1990

Hi hello there, have another cheery chapter about Snape's fulfilling happy life. :)

Next installment will feature Harry in it. From then on out, the timeline will cover what was in the books. Not sure if this story is going to hit 20 chapters like I said. It might end up being only 16 or 17 chapters (this includes the Prologue and Epilogue). There were a couple of chapters I wrote that I decided to delete because they weren't really relevant to anything. Since this story is about Snape's feelings for Lily, it's hard to decide what to write about once I get to the point where I'm treading where the books all went. Mostly it's going to be Severus's POV of first seeing Harry, his reactions to his and Harry's Occlumency lessons, how he felt when he found the Mirror of Erised, things like that. I'll probably be finished with this story in a week or two? I want to get everything out before Pottermore decides to mess with my outline by for instance telling us that Severus had a long and satisfying affair with Winky the house elf or something.

Anyway, this chapter is sort of a "day in the life" of Severus Snape. Hope you like it. Thanks for reading.

* * *

><p>Hogwarts<p>

January, 1990

About an hour before dawn, Severus Snape stirred out of his narrow bed, and in the dark pulled off his nightshirt, then drew on his robes. Only when all was in order did he grope for his wand on his nightstand and make the torches flicker with firelight. The orange flame dimly revealed a small stone room, dank and cold and bare save for the narrow bed, its indifferent bedclothes, and the nightstand. But this room was not for living in, merely for slumber.

It was the room adjacent to it in which Severus spent his most important hours: a room much larger than the former, filled from top to bottom along the walls with potions, jars, and books, and in the center a vast table upon which its owner masterfully brewed potions both common and obscure.

What summoned Severus to rise at this hour was the desire to finish a tricky potion of his own invention, a serum to treat hippogriff bites. There were others out there, but none that worked quickly, or did not leave behind a nasty illness all its own. It had always been an enjoyable pastime of Severus's to improve on the potions of others, and he was skilled enough at such things that Madame Pomfrey often lamented he hadn't become a healer at St. Mungo's.

This was his favorite hour of the day, when the rest of the castle was asleep, and he became so absorbed in his work that he lost track of the world outside. There was also the keen joy of doing something he knew he excelled at, that rare satisfaction of mastery put to work. And the silvery simmering cauldron before him was hypnotic, filling the room with a pungent scent that meant the potion was coming along as planned. Therefore it was with some regret that he was interrupted by a knock on his door, for it meant it was time to lay his work aside, and take part in the Hogwarts routine once more.

"And what brings you to call on me at this hour of the morning, Mr. Warrington," Snape demanded coldly when he swung open the heavy door and looked down to see one of the Slytherin prefects.

"Well, Professor, I was just patrolling the halls, making sure nothing was amiss, you see," the boy explained, "when I came upon a Gryffindor student wandering around outside of the Slytherin common room. It seemed suspicious, Sir."

"Where is he now?"

"I chased him away," the boy replied proudly.

"And what do you propose I do about it?"

"Just thought I should let you know, Professor."

"Who was it?"

"Weasley."

"Which. One," Severus asked acidly.

"I don't know, Sir. They all look the same."

Severus repressed a sigh of annoyance, then said "Duly noted, Mr. Warrington. You're dismissed."

By the time Severus made his way up the stairs to the Great Hall, dawn had broken, and the windows lit the castle with a thin watery light. It did not surprise Severus in the least that the day should be a dreary one, wherein a cold rain washed away the snow from the rooftops and left the sky a muddy grey. Some students of his house passed by him on the way to the Hall for breakfast, the hems of their black robes swishing about their legs as they cackled merrily over something that Severus had no doubt was of a diabolical nature. "Good morning, Professor," one of them hailed, and Severus nodded in return. The only students in the school who could be said to like Severus were his own Slytherins, though to be fair, they were the only students Severus himself liked, and treated them accordingly. "We're going to smash Gryffindor at Quiddich this year, aren't we Professor?" called another, to which Severus soberly replied "I'll be gravely disappointed if we don't, Mr. Flint."

"That's right, Professor. We'll make them eat dirt." And the boys fled up the staircase with hoots of laughter while Severus followed them at a more decorous pace.

Breakfast was as it ever was, pumpkin juice and pancakes and marmalade, though Severus himself merely had tea and toast with no jam, and his only owl was the one who brought him his _Daily Prophet_. As he perused the newspaper and drank his tea, Pomona Sprout initiated a conversation with him about herbs, which Severus returned with some interest until Hagrid interrupted by asking Severus if he had any potions for dog illnesses, since Fang was sick.

"I am not a veterinarian, Mr. Hagrid," Severus replied tersely, folding his paper before standing up from the table. "Pomona, I'll see you this afternoon about the Mandrake."

"Very well, Severus," Pomona replied cheerfully, and Severus swept out of the Hall, ignoring the rude whispers from the Gryffindor table as he passed it. Make them eat dirt, indeed.

Fortunately, Severus's morning class was seventh years, all of whom were preparing for their N.E.W.T.s in Potions. This meant that there were few of them, and merely one misplaced Gryffindor among the two Slytherins and three Ravenclaws. As Severus only accepted those who got an O in their Potions O.W.L., these students were not as dim-witted as the ones in his other classes, and therefore not as messy in their mishaps.

"You will not require your textbooks today," Severus said when class commenced. "Rather," he went on, waving his wand at the blackboard, "you will follow these instructions here."

"Wolfsbane potion?" a Ravenclaw student asked in puzzlement. "What's that?"

"It is a treatment for those afflicted with lycanthropy."

"You mean werewolves?" grinned a Slytherin named Drummle.

"Precisely, Mr. Drummle. Five points to Slytherin."

"I didn't know there was a cure for that," the Ravenclaw student said.

"I said a treatment, not a cure, you silly girl," Severus sniffed. "There is no cure at present. But this potion is quite new, and I will warn you, very difficult to make. I highly doubt that any of you will succeed. Nevertheless, one does not learn by always doing what is easy or convenient. You may begin."

As he wandered about the classroom inspecting the inevitable failures of his students' work, Severus sighed to himself, and wondered if this was really all he had to look forward to for the rest of his life: students sundry and ignorant and tiresome, students who eventually left Hogwarts to take part in the world while he stayed here, where nothing ever changed. And he was well aware that, to them, he was not much more than one of the school's stone gargoyles: beneath their notice until he _made_ them notice.

In a way, he hoped that his life would end sooner rather than later, for that was far preferable than living on past the point of endurance as a worthless relic. However, he knew that things would soon change for him, one way or another: next year, the boy will begin his education at Hogwarts, and Severus will be called upon to be on his guard far more than he'd been since assuming his post as professor. It would make things easier for Severus if the boy were sorted into Slytherin, but no doubt he would take after his parents and enter into Gryffindor instead. The thought of this drew an expression of disgust across Severus's face.

After he'd given his entire class (except the two Slytherins) zero marks for the day, he dismissed them and, ignoring their sullen complaints, exited the classroom to his office. There he entered into his grade book the seventh years' marks for the morning, then checked the hippogriff serum. It was a fine rust color now; all it required was fresh Mandrake leaf, and it would be complete.

He spent the rest of the morning writing letters to the Apothecary in Diagon Alley requesting ingredients to replenish his supplies, and making a list of things he meant to gather in the Forbidden Forest. When lunchtime came around he left his office and went to the Great Hall again, taking only more tea and a sandwich as his gaze absently wandered about the Hall. The Gryffindor table was gaudy with redheads, most of whom belonged to that detestable Weasley brood, though he had nothing against Molly or Arthur, despite Arthur's silly obsession with Muggles. There was the table of smiling Hufflepuffs, and then the haughty Ravenclaws, then his own house, where it appeared a subset of his students had gathered close to plot something Severus was sure meant trouble for the Gryffindors. He smirked to himself with grim satisfaction.

After lunch he visited Pomona in the greenhouses, where she snipped off for him some fresh young Mandrake leaf. Most people were only familiar with the uses of the root, but skilled potioneers knew that the leaf, too, had its own interesting qualities. Pomona and he enjoyed a brief conversation of professional interest regarding the uses of herbs in general, and then he returned to the castle and his office, where he masticated the leaves and dropped them into the cauldron containing the unfinished hippogriff serum. The serum immediately turned a violent shade of purple, before clearing into a delicate lavender. He would let it simmer until after supper, and then it would be done.

Unfortunately, afternoons meant double Potions with the Gryffindors, where it seemed Severus was taking points off from Gryffindor house every time he turned round thanks to the odious Weasley twins. They appeared to especially target Severus with their by-now notorious pranks, and in return Severus especially tended to give them notorious detentions. In a way they were like James and Sirius all over again, except this time Severus was able to exact his revenge quite satisfactorily by, say, ordering them to scrub bedpans in the Infirmary without the use of magic. When class concluded, Severus had a visit with Filch to explain that he had the pleasure of offering up the Weasley twins for him to do as he liked, and after Filch scraped and bowed to Severus in that annoyingly servile way of his, Severus swept away and made for the Great Hall in time for supper. He allowed himself a decent portion of pudding and pumpkin juice, then he returned to his office, where he checked the hippogriff serum, ensured it was done, and poured it into a stone flask. With it he went to the Infirmary.

"But this is just what we needed!" Madame Pomfrey exclaimed when Severus presented the hippogriff serum to her. "Upon my word, Severus, these children never learn. I do believe Dumbledore's admonitions not to go the Forbidden Forest only inspires them to greater heights of foolishness."

"I don't doubt it, Poppy," Severus agreed as she led him to her office and offered him some tea. Severus knew that he was a favorite of Poppy's, and the feeling was quite mutual; for, when he was a schoolboy, he'd spent much time in the Infirmary either due to the frequent illnesses he'd suffered, or because of the pranks that fiend Potter and his friends played on him nearly constantly. It was while Poppy treated him for his many complaints that they became friends, and he saw in her the mother figure he felt he should have had; for she was the only one of the staff who seemed to genuinely like him, and feel some compassion for him. Perhaps it was a reason why he was so devoted to making antidotes and other serums for her use.

"It's lucky you decided to drop by, Severus," Poppy said, placing the serum right in the middle of her desk and then pulling open a drawer. "You hadn't thought I'd forgotten, have you?"

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean."

"If I didn't know you, I'd say you were being dishonest," she said, holding a book out for him. Puzzled, he took it from her-and gasped involuntarily when he saw it was a venerable grimoire of ancient healing potions and antidotes. Not even his vast library had a thing so fine.

"It's extraordinary," he breathed, opening the book and turning the delicate pages. An almost boyish excitement thrilled him as he perused it, and it must have shown on his face, since Poppy said "I'm very pleased you like it, Severus. It's worth anything to see you smile like that."

Was he smiling? Indeed he was. He flushed a bit with confusion, then said in the most dignified voice he could muster "This is a rare book, Poppy. A valuable thing. Where did you find it?"

"At Borgin and Burkes," she shrugged.

"Poppy!"

"Well, why not?" she asked defensively. "I don't suppose you've never been there yourself."

"I'm not accusing you," Severus assured her. "It just surprises me, that's all."

"Why should it?"

"Because you seem so innocent."

"Hmph!"

"Anyway Poppy, I should like to borrow this, if I may," Severus said, holding the book almost reverently.

"Borrow it? You foolish man, it's yours!"

"Mine?"

"Yes! Happy birthday, Severus Snape."

"Oh," he said softly, gazing down at the book so that his hair fell over his face. He could feel dampness gathering in his eyes, and it would not do for her to see. Why should the fact that someone had remembered affect him so?

"Well, you can show your gratitude by preparing an antidote for me from that book," Poppy said teasingly, though there was a gentleness in her tone that comforted him. "Ideally, something that would prevent foolish gamekeepers from adopting dangerous animals."

"I'm afraid no potion exists to render that miracle," Severus said with a sneer, and Poppy laughed merrily at that.

"Oh bother, what now," Poppy sighed when they heard a frantic voice summon her in the Infirmary. "No doubt one of your students has hexed another Gryffindor. That'd be the third time today!"

"Or another Gryffindor had hexed one of my students," Severus replied evenly, standing up when she did.

"I dread your houses' Quidditch match this year," she shook her head. "Whenever Gryffindor plays Slytherin, every bed of my ward fills up," and she hurriedly departed out of her office to attend the wailing student (a Hufflepuff, after all).

On his way to his office from the Infirmary, Severus was waylaid by Warrington, who gave Severus a full report of the day's events, including several offenses committed against Slytherins by the Weasely twins. Severus told Warrington that as he was not Gryffindor's head of house there wasn't a tremendous amount he could do about the Weasley twins besides give them detention, but that he would speak to Professor McGonagall, who _was_ head of Gryffindor. No sooner had he shaken off Warrington than he was accosted by Marcus Flint, who asked if Severus could reserve the Quidditch pitch for the Slytherins to practice on for all the Saturdays leading up to the match against Gryffindor. Severus assured him he would, then stepped into his office at last, where he closed the door behind him with finality.

It would be many hours before he would feel tired enough for sleep, Severus knew. As he didn't receive any summons to Dumbledore's chambers that night, he perused the book that Poppy had given him until his vision began to blur from staring at the small, arcane print. By the time he'd set it aside it was past one in the morning, and, after considering his options, he made a decision, and stood up from his chair.

In recent years, Severus had come to the appalling realization that his memories were beginning to fade. Things that had once been crystal clear to him in his mind were now fuzzy around the edges. Details that had once been sharp were now difficult for him to recall precisely. As a man whose soul was sustained by memories, this discovery was devastating.

Over the winter holiday, Dumbledore had told him about the uses of the Pensieve, and demonstrated how it worked. Since then, he'd let Severus borrow his from time to time, and now, Severus went to a cabinet in his office, opened it, and removed the Pensieve from its place.

On one shelf of the cabinet stood an array of flasks that held memories Severus valued above all others. To prevent their fading into nothingness, he preserved them in these vessels, for the curious thing about memories is that they only decayed in the mind.

It wasn't difficult to decide which one to choose. Severus selected a delicate green glass bottle, and took it the Pensieve. While his office contained many things, one thing it was absent of was a mirror. But now, as he stared at the Pensieve's quiet surface, he saw his own reflection, and noted that the thirty years of his life did not wear well on him. That no one in all this time had ever seen anything in him to admire was not particularly astonishing. But the fact that Lily Evans did, once, was merely the natural order of things. As she'd told her sister all those years ago, she and he were made from the same clump of earth: they were _one_, and always would be, forever and forever.

* * *

><p><em>The note wedged under their secret rock had read "MEET ME AT THE SWINGS AFTER BREAKFAST! -L." With quiet excitement Severus put on his stoutest coat and ventured out into the snowy winter morning, trotting to the playground as fast as his legs could carry him. As cold as it was, there would be no one else there except them, and sure enough, the only thing he could see to interrupt the drifts of white was the bright red hair, topped by an absurd pink knitted cap that was no doubt made by her mum.<em>

_"Severus!" she shouted, waving her pink mittened hand frantically when she spotted him. Her voice echoed sharply in the cold thin air, and seemed to echo in his bones too._

_"I got your note," Severus said unnecessarily as he took the swing next to hers, trying not to stare too much at the way her eyes glittered with a gladness to match his own._

_"Oh Severus isn't it pretty?" she asked, looking around the white playground. "I love winter, don't you?"_

_"It's just snow," he shrugged, but in a way he understood. There was a certain crystalline joy in the day that even his young boy's heart could not fail to notice._

_She pouted at his indifferent tone, but after a moment smiled again, said "Oh well, you're just a boy."_

_"What's that supposed to mean?"_

_"Tuney says boys are thick about beauty and things, until they hit-until they get older."_

_"Tuney is thick herself!"_

_"Severus, that's not nice."_

_Afraid their day would devolve into another stupid argument about her sister, he hastily apologized, then said brightly "Hey, I know! Let's fly!" Ever since he'd first seen her sail off the swings like a bird, he knew that "flying" was her favorite thing, and generally she was more than happy to do so. But this time she shook her head, said "No, wait, we have to do something first."_

_"What?"_

_With a small nervous giggle, she reached into the pocket of her coat, and pulled something out, handed it to him._

_"I know they're nothing grand," she said somewhat apologetically, "but I asked Mummy to knit your favorite color, and I charmed them so that they stay warm always."_

_He slipped the green mittens onto his frozen hands, and sure enough, they were warm as toast inside._

_"Lily, this is really advanced magic," he said in awe. "You're going to be the best witch at Hogwarts, I just know it!"_

_"So you like them then?" Lily asked._

_"They're brilliant."_

_"Oh, good. Happy birthday, Severus!"_

_He glanced up swiftly, stared at her for a moment unable to speak. _

_"You did say it was today, didn't you?" she asked apprehensively. He nodded his head violently up and down. She sighed with relief. "Okay, that's good," she giggled. "I'd feel like a dunderhead if I'd gotten the day wrong."_

_"Th-thank you," he managed to stutter at last. He couldn't believe she'd remembered. _

_"So, how does it feel to be ten?" she asked now, rocking slightly back and forth on her swing._

_"You'll find out in a couple weeks," he replied smugly. One doesn't turn ten every day._

_"But think, Severus, only one more year, and we get our letters from Hogwarts!" she said excitedly. Then her face fell a little as she said "Are you sure I'll get one too?"_

_"Positive. I've told you dozens of times. And you've got loads of magic, you're sure to get in."_

_"So if Muggles with magic can get in, what about wizarding folk who don't have magic?"_

_"Those are called squibs, and no, they don't get in."_

_"Only people with magic, no matter who they are?"_

_"That's right."_

_"I'll be so glad when we get to go at last," she said after a moment, kicking the snow with the toe of her wellies. "It'll be ever so much better than regular school, don't you think?"_

_Severus agreed firmly. Nothing was worse than Muggles. Nothing._

_"Won't you miss your friends though?" Severus reluctantly asked. He knew that, unlike him, she had loads of friends at school._

_But she shrugged, said "I don't know. They're nice, Sev, but they're not like us."_

_"'Sev'?" he repeated with surprise._

_"Oh, sorry. But that's what I call you in my head," she smiled. "I won't say it if you don't like it though."_

_"No, I like it," he assured her. More than liked it. But then he thought about what she'd said, asked "What do you mean they're not like us? You mean because they don't have magic?"_

_"Partly," she said. "But also...It's hard to explain. We're just different, that's all. Special."_

_"Special?" he smirked._

_"Yes! And...And they're not like you, Sev."_

_"What does that mean?" he asked faintly._

_"Well." She stared down at the ground. Her hair fell forward so that all he could see was the tip of her cold-reddened nose. "They're all children, but you...You're brilliant, Sev. You know everything. And you've got loads of magic yourself. Sometimes I wonder you don't think I'm just a silly girl."_

_"Lily, you're the best friend I've ever had," he said quietly. The only friend I've ever had._

_"You too, Sev," she said, holding out her hand. The pink mitten found the green, and they swung on their swings in silence until Petunia showed up sometime later and called Lily home to lunch. _


	9. 1991

Hey everyone, thanks for all your comments and visits and such! :) Here's the next chapter. Don't know when I'm going to be updating again because there is all this RL stuff going on right now that's preventing me from writing, and anyway I'm having a bit of a time with the next chapter (Prisoner of Azkaban-related). Hopefully it will be by next weekend. In the meantime, hope you enjoy this one. Thanks for reading.

* * *

><p>Hogwarts<p>

September, 1991

_"I'm sorry we didn't get sorted into the same house last night, Sev."_

_"It's all right," Severus replied, pretending to worry a thread on the sleeve of his robes as he and Lily wandered the border of the Lake after their first day's classes. The late afternoon sky was lit with a peculiar shade of gold, and it seemed to make the tips of her hair catch fire._

_"I know how much it mattered to you," she went on, reaching to tug the thread from his sleeve. "But it's all right. We're still ever the best of friends, always."_

_"You mean it?"_

_However, before he could hear her answer, Severus suddenly found himself face-down in the dirt._

_"What's the matter, Snivellus? Had an accident?" jeered the wavy-haired boy from yesterday's train ride. Behind him was the boy with the glasses._

_"You tripped me, you nasty swine," Severus spat, getting up from the ground._

_"I prefer dog, actually," the wavy-haired boy replied as he elegantly smoothed his hair back. _

_"You're a dog and a bastard and-and-" Severus stuttered, inarticulate with rage._

_"Awww, are those tears forming in Snivelly's beady eyes?" the boy with the glasses mocked. "Tell me, Sirius, how big do you think Snivellus's handkerchief is?"_

_"Well, James, I'm going to guess that when he gets a cold, his mum just throws him a bedsheet to wipe his nose on."_

_"Great ugly git."_

_"Leave him alone!" shouted Lily, running up to James and shoving him to the ground._

_"All right, Evans?" James said with something like surprise, standing up again and dusting the dirt off his robes. _

_"Blow off, you bloody bogey," Lily seethed. Something within Severus lit with a grim joy. After they'd been sorted into different houses, Severus was afraid things would change between them. He was glad to see that they were still as one, even here, even now._

_"You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort, Evans," James said as he watched Lily take Severus's arm. '"I can help you there."_

_"I think I can tell the wrong sort for myself, thanks," Lily replied acidly. "Sev, let's go."_

_"You didn't have to do that," Severus said as she led them away toward a friendly tree. _

_"Never mind them," she hissed into his ear, as though reading his thoughts. "They're just jealous."_

_"Jealous?"_

_"Because you're so much better than they'll ever be. At least, to me," she added, her cheeks turning rosy._

_"Lily," he whispered. But then she suddenly let go of him and ran off, her red hair like a flag of victory over Hogwarts' glass-green lawn._

"HARRY POTTER!"

Severus suddenly blinked up from his reverie, looked around the Hall. The entire place had fallen silent, and even Severus himself leaned forward with anticipation as The Boy Who Lived stepped up to be sorted.

_His face. Show me his face_, Severus thought, clenching his fists beneath the table. But the boy's back was to Severus when he sat down on the stool.

Severus noted with interest, however, that the Sorting Hat seemed to take a long time. Severus remembered when both he and Lily had been sorted, the Hat had not hesitated at all. Now it was as though the Hat couldn't make up its mind.

_Let it be Slytherin_, Severus thought to himself.

"GRYFFINDOR!" the Hat shouted at last. Filthy rag.

The boy trotted happily to the Gryffindor table, where he was instantly surrounded by smiling students. It was only then that Severus was finally able to perceive the boy's face, and he was almost relieved by what he saw. For the boy looked so much like James Potter that it would be no trouble at all for Severus to maintain an appearance of aloofness toward him, since it could only reflect a genuine disdain that Severus already felt manifesting within.

But as the boy's gaze met Severus's own, the boy's eyes widened a little; and it was then that Severus saw-yes, yes, exactly, _exactly_: he had exactly her eyes. _Precisely_ her eyes. It was as though she were gazing at him once more across space and time, across the border that separated the worlds of the living and the dead; and for one bright blinding moment, it was summer again for Severus Snape, till it all vanished in a swirl of mist and memory.

It had lasted barely a second; nevertheless, Severus had almost been in danger of betraying himself by his expression had the boy not suddenly cringed and rubbed his forehead. This provided the opportunity for Severus to break contact and turn his attention back to that fool Quirrell, who was spluttering some more inanities at him. Severus absently noted to himself that there was something not right with the man, and decided to investigate further before he turned his thoughts again to the boy. (Additionally, even Severus, who was no expert on fashion, decided that the turban Quirrell wore on his head was most hideous.) Potter was soon joined by yet another Weasley (was there any end to them? Though Severus had to hand it to Arthur), and already Severus hated the boy. So far, Potter had managed to resemble his father, get sorted into Gryffindor, befriend a Weasley, and find himself in a circle of admirers, four Unforgivables in Severus's mind. He saw how all the attention would make Potter grow arrogant if he wasn't already, just like James. Severus decided right then and there he would not permit such arrogance in his presence, especially in Potions.

Young Draco Malfoy, on the other hand, had been sorted into Slytherin like a proper boy. Across the room Draco's eyes found Severus's, and he gave Severus a smug smile, to which Severus nodded. Draco's mates, however, appeared to be the sorts of clumsy oafs who made Bole look like Merlin, and Severus sighed. The Sorting Hat didn't always choose the cleverest students for Slytherin.

As Dumbledore rose to welcome the students to Hogwarts, Severus's mind drifted to the Philosopher's Stone. He had a dread suspicion that Potter was going to end up being embroiled in it somehow, though he couldn't quite say why. All he knew was that he most likely was to have a devil of a time this term keeping the brat out of trouble, especially if Potter's demeanor resembled his father's as much as his appearance did.

Severus was not looking forward to this school year. No indeed he was not.

After the welcoming feast, Dumbledore summoned Severus to his chambers that evening, as Severus had been expecting. Keeping his eyes on the chessboard, Dumbledore said "Well, Severus. the moment has come at last. The event we'd all been anticipating."

When Severus had nothing to say to that, Dumbledore smiled faintly, added "And what's your impression of the boy, so far?"

"I've hardly had an opportunity to formulate an opinion," Severus replied neutrally.

"It's been my experience that opinions don't often wait for opportunities to form themselves," Dumbledore said.

"He resembles his father greatly," was all Severus allowed.

"In looks, yes. Though I fear that this detail will bias you against him, if it hasn't already." Severus didn't reply.

"Take care, Severus," Dumbledore said, raising his eyes to Severus's own. "Before you decide how you will proceed, carefully consider the likely outcome of your behavior. It may be that your rash judgment could prevent you from forming a strong and valuable bond with someone who desperately seeks a guardian figure."

The idea of attempting to make friends with the son of his greatest rival caused a sneer to form across Severus's face. Dumbledore shook his head.

"As you will, Severus. But try not to let your prejudices be the rulers of your actions."

"He's James Potter's son, Albus."

"And Lily's."

"I see none of that." It wasn't completely true; Severus remembered that strange moment earlier in the evening where it seemed as though she'd gazed out at him through her son's eyes.

"But it's James you're determined to focus on. Very well," Dumbledore said. "As long as you keep your word to protect the boy, I'll say nothing more about it."

"I don't break my promises, Albus."

Dumbledore didn't reply, merely moved his bishop toward Severus's queen. At once Severus's queen obliterated the bishop, and Dumbledore smiled.

"Ah! well. That reminds me: are all the enchantments to protect the Philosopher's Stone in place?"

"They are."

"Splendid. I will add one more, and then it will be complete."

"Why the sudden need to protect it at all, Albus?"

Dumbledore's smile faded, and he leaned forward, said quietly "The thing we feared most is coming to pass."

"You mean-"

"Yes. Lord Voldemort."

"But I haven't-" Severus began, pointing to his forearm.

"He hasn't manifested himself corporeally yet; perhaps that is why you've had no warning."

"But he's out there."

"And getting stronger even as we speak."

"How do you know?"

"Oh, I know," Dumbledore said broodingly. "But the salient point is, Severus, it is now more than ever that I must rely on you to protect Harry Potter. It's well he came to Hogwarts when he did. You must not fail, Severus," Dumbledore said now, almost pleadingly. "Think beyond your hatred of his father, and keep in mind that the boy is the only one who can destroy Voldemort once and for all."

"How?"

"All in good time."

Severus snorted with impatience. "Always riddles with you! How am I to do my duty when I'm only half informed?"

"Do you suppose I'd keep anything from you that was necessary to protect the boy?"

"Yet you won't tell me everything."

"Not now."

"When?"

Dumbledore stood up, and right then Severus was reminded why Dumbledore was the most powerful wizard of the age.

"I have been patient with you, Severus," Dumbledore said in a low voice, though his eyes were livid thunderclouds. "But it is time you learn that it is not for you to decide what information you receive."

Rebuked, Severus lowered his gaze. But he couldn't help but add waspishly "I suppose it's because you don't trust me."

"No, Severus. It's because I don't trust Voldemort. And when-not if, but _when_-you're in his presence again, I can't take the risk of his having access to vital knowledge should your Occlumency be compromised."

"It won't be compromised. Ever."

"Are you certain?"

Severus looked up. Dumbledore gazed steadily at him, said "You recall that the greatest weakness to an Occlumens is a lack of emotional control. Yet just this evening I've witnessed you become unreasonable over petty things not worthy of you. Therefore, I suggest you make an effort to control your anger toward James. For your sake, as well as the boy's."

Severus glanced down at the chessboard. He saw that his queen was positioned to take Dumbledore's king. He hadn't noticed until now.

"Checkmate," Severus murmured.

"I know," Dumbledore replied.

* * *

><p><em>Despite the fact that Charms class had been her favorite, she'd always loved Potions too, perhaps even more than he did. Therefore, it wasn't surprising that, sooner or later, Lily and Severus would both turn up at the Apothecary in Diagon Alley at the same time: Severus to purchase ingredients for a potion the Dark Lord requested, Lily with her foul bloody bastard boggart of a husband in tow.<em>

_Severus noted immediately that she was pregnant, radiant with life, and she held James' hand in hers as she wandered happily through the racks. The summer sunlight through the windows cast her hair in a blaze of fire, and her cheeks were flushed from the heat, her expression beatific. Beside her, James looked like a man who'd been told he'd inherited a vault of gold in Gringotts._

_Severus's trembling hand wandered to his wand to curse the life out of her belly. But he stopped himself in time, and instead hid in a dim alcove of the shop. _

_"Honest to Merlin," Severus overheard James whisper. "I think I saw him."_

_"Him? D'you mean You-Know-Who?" Lily whispered back._

_"Almost like. I mean _him_. Your old boyfriend, Snivellus." _

_Pause. "Where?" Then: "He's here?"_

_"I don't know, maybe he's gone to blow his nose on a ship's sail."_

_"Don't talk about him like that. And he wasn't my boyfriend, James. We were just friends."_

_"Hmph," James sniffed. "Could have fooled me, the way you were always hanging off of him, and 'Oh Severus!' this, and 'Oh Severus!' that, and 'Oh Snivelly let me wipe your great giant nose for you."_

_"Stop it," she replied severely, though she giggled a bit all the same. Severus felt the blood drain from his face. Then "How can you still hate him so much? I thought you'd got over all that."_

_"He's a dark evil thing is what he is," James replied, all the slyness gone from his voice. "He's no good, Lil. He's a Death Eater now, and they say...Well, they say he Imperiuses people to come to You-Know-Who before You-Know-Who finishes them off."_

_"No," she whispered. "NO. You can't mean it, James. He wouldn't do that, he promised-"_

_"Hush, love! Hush, Lily! Shhh, my darling. But that's what they say. Much as I despise him, I'm sorry to have to tell you that, since I know he mattered to you." Pause. "But it was only a matter of time. Even you knew that, I think."_

_"No..." And even now, even through a barrier far more impenetrable than a rack of glass vials, Severus could sense her mind struggling with this, before a sharp pain pierced his soul when he felt something in her die._

_"Don't speak about him anymore," she said at last, her voice as final as a headstone. "Come along, James, I want to go home." It would be the last time Severus ever saw her alive._

"Severus. Some pudding, perhaps?"

Severus looked up to see Dumbledore smiling at him; next to Dumbledore sat James Potter's loathsome son, cackling with the Weasley creature about some inane thing or other.

"No, thank you, Headmaster," Severus said formally, standing up from his chair. "Good evening."

"Good night," Severus," he heard Dumbledore softly reply as he walked away.

This fall term had been the worst Severus ever experienced as a professor.

To begin with, Halloween night had marked ten years since Lily's murder, and Severus was forced to contemplate that she'd been dead almost as long as he'd known her alive, and longer than they'd been friends. It was an impossible notion to grasp, since she was such a profound force in his world, and yet she hasn't physically been a part of it for a decade.

It was no comfort to Severus that her son was a constant reminder of his loss. In recent years, up until the time Potter came to Hogwarts, the memory of Severus's remorse had faded in its intensity, and it was less a searing gash than a nagging scar. Now, though, it was eternally at the forefront of his mind, especially as the incarnation of James Potter regularly sneered at him over his Potions cauldron, as if James's ghost were reproaching Severus for having failed yet _again_.

Right from the beginning, Severus and the boy had been at loggerheads, just as it had been with James. Potter's inattention, smugness, and cavalier attitude in that first Potions lesson sealed it for Severus. He hated the boy even more than he'd expected to, and it did not help that the boy had chosen some of the most odious students in his year to befriend: that horrid Weasley brat, and that girl who did not know how to keep her mouth shut. The trio had already gotten into trouble numerous times, and Severus saw how they were just like the Marauders all over again. Perhaps the only student whom Severus loathed more was Neville Longbottom. His timid incompetence alone would have drawn from Severus the coldest disdain. But as he could have been the Dark Lord's target instead of Potter, why...Why, Lily might still be alive to this day, if the Dark Lord had chosen Neville instead.

Many other things occurred this term to add insult to injury. Of course, Minerva and Albus bent the rules to allow Precious Potter to play Quidditch; and of course, the boy had to prove talented at it, helping to vanquish Severus's own Slytherins for the first time in years. It was as though Merlin Himself had fashioned Potter out of all the ingredients required to make him Severus's ideal foe, and Severus bitterly rued the day when his younger self swore to protect the brat. If he'd only known!

But then, there were times when Lily's ghost seemed to whisper in his mind, gently urging Severus to take care of her beloved son. He'd already failed her twice before. He could not do so a third time, and expect to live with himself.

Winter break was the best time of the academic year, as most of the students went home for the holidays, leaving the school deserted. The only damper to it this season was discovering that Potter and the Weasleys were staying at Hogwarts during break, though Severus supposed that Potter had wit enough to deduce that the comfort of a cold castle was superior to his mother's sister's company, and that the Weasley family probably couldn't afford to feed their children over the winter holidays. As there were so few people in the castle during this time, Albus in his absurdly chummy way decided that all staff and remaining students should dine at one table in the Hall. Severus was rather disenchanted with the idea, and chose to take his meals in his office instead. However, when Dumbledore hinted to him over chess one evening that it was hardly in the school spirit for Severus to not partake in communal meals, Severus resumed eating supper, anyway, in the Hall, where he was forced to be in close proximity to Potter, whom Severus supposed enjoyed it as much as Severus did. During this time, Severus could not swear that Potter wasn't somehow roaming the halls at night (just like his odious father), but Severus never managed to catch him in the act. Nevertheless, it seemed to him that Potter would not meet his eyes over supper, and when he did, Severus would catch flickering images in his mind that sealed the boy's guilt. Potter was a fool, and as open as a book. But his explorations through the castle and grounds were dangerous, which meant Severus took to wandering the school at night himself to be present in case something happened to the thoughtless boy.

But this night, as the sky outside the windows was crystal clear and the ground beneath it blanketed softly in fresh snow, Severus found himself perusing a part of the castle he wasn't greatly familiar with, one primarily made up of disused classrooms. However, something told him that this was a favorite haunt of Potter's, and here Severus went to patrol.

As he passed one of the classroom doors, he thought he saw a flash of light coming from beyond its threshold. To investigate, he entered the room in question, only to find another lighted wand similar to his own nearing him with each step. It was then he realized that the source of light was his own wand reflected within what looked to be a great, tall mirror.

_Curious_, Severus thought. What should such a thing be doing here, of all places?

As mirrors were not a source of joy to him, he didn't tarry in front of it before he made to turn away. But he was arrested when he realized it was not he who was reflected back at him...and what he saw made him nearly drop his wand.

Simple. Long red hair, sparkling eyes, sweet face, freckled nose. So simple, and yet so profound he wanted to weep. She smiled at him as though she were really glad to see him. But when he turned around, she wasn't there.

Frantic, he looked back into the mirror again. There she was, still smiling. He couldn't speak; he couldn't move. Breathing was impossible. This was not like those dreams of his, where everything had that blurred, unreal quality. It wasn't even like his bottled memories, with their silvery outline. This was Lily Evans as he'd known her, down to her wild hair and the tiny mole on her neck and her feet that were slightly turned in. Her lips were even chapped, as they often were from her chewing on them when she was studying or otherwise thinking deeply. There was even her bitten-down nails, and the hole in her favorite sweater that she refused to throw away because it was her best color.

What was this? A mirror that could turn back time? A portal to the otherworld? But his thoughts dissolved when she took a step closer, and held up her palm.

Severus immediately understood. He raised his own palm, lay it over hers. Instead of warm flesh he felt nothing but the coldness of glass, yet the gesture melted him all the same.

_I forgive,_ it said.

_Lily,_ he tried to speak, but no sound came out. She stepped even closer, so close he could see the faint flecks of gold in her eyes, the copper sheen of her eyelashes. He stepped closer too, and leaned his forehead against the glass.

He didn't know how long he stood there like that, but eventually he heard the rustle of robes behind him, felt a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"Severus," Dumbledore said quietly.

The spell seemed to break then, and Severus turned from the mirror at last, to find Dumbledore gazing at him with an expression Severus had never seen from him before. Then, with a wistful smile, Albus drew Severus's arm in his own, and without a word led Severus away.


	10. January 1994

Hogwarts

January, 1994

It was incredible, but Severus Snape truly believed that life had actually managed to become even more intolerable. And just as in almost all instances where he'd been made to suffer, it was the fault of a smug, bespectacled, arrogant Quidditch player by the name of Potter.

Anyone could see that Potter was his father all over again. But, amazingly, this generation's version was even more of a trial to Severus than the previous one, for the boy seemed to be a magnet for the worst sorts of trouble. Over the years Severus had grown used to a rather unremarkable, if dull, existence as a Hogwarts professor; but no sooner had Potter stepped foot inside the castle that all manner of chaos broke loose, almost continuously and for each and every term.

To be fair, much of it had to do with the Dark Lord. Even Severus himself would grudgingly agree that there were certain things the boy certainly could not have helped. But it was evident that Potter also went out of his way to invite trouble, he and those wretched friends of his. And it was up to Severus to ensure that the brat didn't get hurt, or worse.

It seemed as though Severus was plagued almost continually with having to save Potter from himself. No sooner had they cleaned up the mess involving the Philosopher's Stone that the Chamber of Secrets was opened; and no sooner had that incident been taken care of, when that odious, wretched monster of a murderer had escaped Azkaban. It was bad enough that in all of the wizarding world, Remus Lupin the Werewolf had been hired to teach _his_, Severus's, Defense Against the Dark Arts; but now it would seem that Sirius Black was attempting a happy little Marauders' reunion by daring to breach the confines of the school.

Severus hoped to Merlin that Black would find his way into Hogwarts again just so that Severus could have the pleasure of Crucio-ing him to insanity before finally giving him to the Dementors. What he felt for that creature was beyond hatred: it was something hot and dark and mad, something there wasn't even a word for. It was blood pumping from a mortal wound, it was eyes ripped out from their sockets and smashed beneath a hobnailed boot. And the reasons were well beyond what that swine had done to Severus in school; this was the man whose actions had not only taken Lily away from him permanently, but also prevented Severus from ever achieving a reconciliation with her.

There were times when the remorse that he felt was even more powerful than his love for her. Mostly because he'd indirectly been the agent of her murder-in some ways, he was nearly as culpable as Black himself. But perhaps almost as regrettable, he'd never won back his honor in her eyes. She went to her death thinking him evil and irredeemable-she, who had been his one, lone champion. To kill Black, or at least to offer him up to the Dementors, would only dull slightly the keen throb of guilt that haunted him every hour of his life. Protecting Potter ameliorated it somewhat, for at least in that way he could atone for his fantastic error. But nothing could ever permanently erase the knowledge that he had betrayed her so terribly.

Looking back on it, he marveled at what a fool he'd been. The adult Severus could clearly see now the colossal mistakes the teenage Severus had made, could see how his choices had hurt the one single person in the world he cared for and who had cared about him in return. Potter is a fool, yes. But Severus had been ten times more foolish at that age. There were nights when Severus lay in his narrow bed unable to sleep while he tortured himself with a thousand what-ifs. What if Black hadn't been the secret-keeper, and Lily was still alive? What if Severus had been able to speak to her again, and let her know, somehow, that he was no longer in league with the Dark Lord? Of course, one doesn't turn away from Voldemort and expect to live; but if he could somehow just have told her, would she...? Would she at least have been his friend again? Perhaps not, as she was married to that arrogant bloody bogey hippogriff hemorrhoid James Potter. Then again, Lily was so stubborn, no one could keep her from doing what she meant to do; and if she had meant to be friends with Severus again, she would have been.

It would have been enough. It would have been enough just to have her smile at him again. It would have been enough just to hear her voice, even if she was praising James to the skies. It would have been enough just to have the _right _ to care about her, to enquire after her, to think of her. Even if he had to endure the company of her odious husband and tiresome child, he'd have done it and gladly, as long as she would have smiled at him again...

_"Severus! It's been ages!"_

_"It's been exactly two weeks, Lily."_

_"Well, it feels like ages anyway. And I'm so sorry I'm late, but Harry had a little accident."_

_"Surely he's potty trained by now."_

_"Oh, Sev! I mean he was flying his broomstick in the house-"_

_"Hmph."_

_"Don't be such a stick in the mud, Sev. Anyway, Harry was flying his broomstick in the house and he scared the poor cat to death, for she jumped on top of the breakfast table-during breakfast, mind you-and broke nearly all the dishes! The tea in the teapot splashed out too, and scalded poor James terribly."_

_"I shall be sure to bring the cat a nice toy when next I visit."_

_"You're the worst! But of course I had to clean the mess up, and make another round of breakfast since we'd hardly touched any of it when the accident happened. Poor Harry had his broomstick taken away from him for a week, since it's against the rules to fly in the house."_

_"I don't believe his father, either, was much for rules."_

_"Now Sev, be sweet."_

_"I always do my best to be 'sweet'."_

_"Speaking of which: what kind of ice cream do you want?"_

_"Lily, why on earth did you choose Florean Fortescue's in which to meet?"_

_"What? Don't tell me that being a...that being a You Know What killed your love of ice cream."_

_"I wasn't aware I'd ever had a liking for ice cream."_

_"You don't remember? Remember that summer when it was ever so hot, and Dad gave me some money to get ice cream and I took you to that little shop that had only two flavors and I got a vanilla and you got a chocolate and we took turns eating from each other's and you said it was the best meal you'd ever had? You don't remember?"_

_"Ah. It's been so long."_

_"Hasn't it? Anyway, I'm getting you a Muggle chocolate ice cream. I hope they have it here."_

_"Lily, I can well afford to pay for my own ice cream."_

_"So? I'm still getting you one. That's what friends do, right?"_

_"I...Yes. That is what friends do, Lily."_

_"See? All right. Hi there, I'll have a Wizard Twist, and he'll have a...Well, do you have Muggle chocolate here? Brilliant! Here you go, Sev."_

_"If you insist."_

_"Yes! Now eat it!"_

_"I'm afraid motherhood has made you unbearably bossy."_

_"You try managing a child and a man who sometimes acts like a child every day and see how you are!"_

_"Need I remind you that I oversee dozens of children every day for ten months a year?"_

_"I still can't believe it, Sev. A professor at Hogwarts! I bet you're ever so good as a teacher."_

_"I doubt my students would concur with you."_

_"Well, just promise you'll be nice to Harry when he starts school."_

_"Hmph."_

_"Sev! And eat your ice cream!"_

_"Yes, Madame."_

_"There you go! Ha! I saw you smiling, don't hide behind your hair and pretend you didn't."_

_"Upon my word, you've grown terribly saucy."_

_"I've been worse."_

_"Is that so."_

_"Yes." Pause. "I'm a lot cheerier now that we're friends again, Sev. For a while there, I'd felt as though I wasn't complete."_

_Pause._

_"Me too, Lily. More than you can ever know."_

As Severus paced his classroom one cold afternoon and scrutinized his students' abysmal Potions work, he noticed that Potter seemed strangely subdued. The boy had barely looked up when Severus criticized his potion, but only nodded quietly in response (the Weasley creature of course muttered something under his breath, earning a five-point deficit from his House). Naturally, Severus was keenly aware of the boy's fear of Dementors, just as Severus was aware of a lot of things the boy had no idea Severus kept track of. But it seemed to Severus that something other than Dementors was troubling the boy this day.

As Severus assumed his desk, Potter looked up, and their eyes locked for a moment. Before Severus could recover from the always bewildering recognition of Lily's gaze in her son's eyes, Severus was able to see a flicker of a face in the boy's thoughts, followed by a seething sensation of hatred that wasn't Severus's own but which matched his in quality.

The face was Sirius Black's.

"Attend to your work, Potter, or it will be another five points from Gryffindor," Severus said coldly as he reached for his pen. He saw the familiar expression of disdain cross the boy's face, before the boy said "Yes Sir" and turned to his cauldron again.

_So he knew_, Severus mused to himself as he began a letter to the Apothecary. Severus had wondered if Potter was aware that Sirius Black had betrayed his parents. Now Severus was certain he did, and that he'd learned this information rather recently. Who the happy bearer of this news was, Severus couldn't begin to guess.

That evening, when Severus presented Lupin with the wolfsbane potion prior to the full moon, the werewolf seemed to pluck this idea from Severus's head.

"Thank you, Severus," Lupin had said congenially enough when Severus stonily set the goblet on Lupin's desk then turned to leave. "Oh, by the way, Severus," Lupin added as Severus got to the door. Severus turned stiffly, replied "Yes?" as curtly as he could. For he took no pleasure in conversing with the werewolf, who unfortunately had adopted an attitude of polite camaraderie with Severus, as though the Marauders had never happened.

"Harry," Lupin went on, sniffing the potion and then making a face. "Have you noticed that he seems a bit quiet lately?"

"I don't deign to notice Potter if I possibly can," Severus rejoined, opening the chamber door. "Good evening, Lupin."

"Because of James?" Lupin asked. Severus paused. Then Lupin went on "Harry looks like James, indeed, but he reminds me very much of Lily, also."

It was only thanks to his long years of Occlumency that Severus managed to keep a neutral expression on his face, but his tone had a metallic edge to it as he slowly turned back around, then said quietly "You have no right to mention that name to me."

"Why not? She was my friend, too," Lupin said. Even though his tone was gentle, his expression sympathetic, Severus wanted to Sectumsempra the werewolf till he was a fountain of blood.

Unable to trust himself not to betray a word or look that Lupin could use against him, Severus declined to respond and instead turned round again to leave. But before he could, the odious werewolf was suddenly by his side, actually placing his hand on Severus's shoulder. Severus shrugged it off like he would a blast-ended skrewt.

"I know we'd never been the best of friends, Severus," Lupin said, "but I'd have thought that the years would have healed some of the old wounds."

"I did not come here to take a little stroll down memory lane with you, Lupin. Good night."

"All right then, Severus. But about Harry: do you believe he knows that Sirius betrayed his parents?"

"I haven't the least idea," Severus lied.

"Well. Sometimes I wonder if he'd found out, somehow. It can't be easy to live with that information. I confess it's still difficult for me to believe that Sirius..." Lupin didn't finish, merely sighed, glanced down at the floor.

"Some wounds never heal," Severus surprised himself by saying. Why in the world was he standing here having this conversation, and with this person of all people?

But Lupin only nodded his head mutely in response, as though he knew Severus wasn't referring to the Marauders. It was then that Severus finally got a hold of himself, and swiftly departed from Lupin's chambers.


	11. June 1995

_"Sev, hold out your hand."_

_"Pardon?"_

_"I said, hold out your hand."_

_"No, I won't."_

_"Why?"_

_"Because I'm almost positive you're going to try to put some of that nasty smelling Muggle rubbish on my fingers."_

_"What, you don't like my nail paint?"_

_"As a matter of fact, I don't."_

_"Ugh, Severus Snape, you are such a _boy_."_

_"I suppose that epithet is better than the alternative."_

_"Come on, then, Sev. Just one nail."_

_"Absolutely not."_

_"Just the pinky nail."_

_"No!"_

_"I'll take it right off, I promise!"_

_"Somehow I don't believe you."_

_"You're such a meanie. And besides, David Bowie paints his nails."_

_"Who on earth is that?"_

_"Don't pretend, I know you know who that is."_

_"Well?"_

_"'Well'? He's wicked!"_

_"Are you really using Muggle slang at me, Lily? And to compliment some Muggle singer in the process?"_

_"I'M a Muggle!"_

_"No. You're a Muggleborn witch. There's a difference. Muggles without magic are..."_

_"Well? Go on."_

_"They're everything that's wrong with the world."_

_"Severus! That's a horrible thing to say!"_

_"Prove to me that it's not true, Lily!"_

_"My parents, for one!"_

_"And what about your sister? What about-what about-what about my filthy father?" Severus took a deep breath, went on "Even that stupid Damon Howie you like! They're all rubbish, Lily!'_

_"Shut UP!"_

_Lily picked up the bottle of nail paint and threw it at him, where it bounced off his shoulder rather painfully._

_"Merlin's beard, that hurt!" Severus yelled, rubbing his arm. "What's the matter with you?"_

_"You're INTOLERABLE," Lily huffed, flopping down on her belly and plucking at a blade of grass, not even caring that it was ruining the sheen of pink paint on her nails._

_When some moments passed and neither of them said anything, Severus repressed a sigh, then lay down next to her, took her hand._

_"You've smudged it, you know," he said mildly, stroking his thumb along her index finger. Something within him shivered violently at his daring, but he was able to force his voice into nonchalance._

_"I don't care," she whispered harshly, but she didn't pull her hand away. One lone leaf fluttered down from the heights of the tree above and landed between them; an early warning of the coming fall._

_But then, he thought he saw her shoulders tremble a little, and before he knew what was what, she was sobbing in his arms._

_"I hate what's happening to us, Severus," she wailed, burying her face in his shoulder. "I hate it!"_

_"Um?" Severus murmured dazedly, barely hearing her, for he was too stunned by having the scent of her hair in his nose, the feel of her lithe warm body against his, to be sensible of anything else._

_"Sometimes I think that growing up is the worst thing in the world," she gasped. "One day, I'm afraid you're going to wake up and decide I'm a...I'm a Mudblood, and be done with me."_

_"That will never happen," Severus hissed, gnashing his teeth. "Never!"_

_"Won't it? We're both so different now."_

_"I'm not!"_

_"You are! And not just your cruel talk about Muggles, either, but you're also-you're taller, and your voice is changing, and you're-well. And me! It's horrid being a girl, Severus! I wish I were a boy! You don't know how awful it is, never knowing what your body is going to do next, then every month having a..." She abruptly stopped._

_Severus felt his cheeks flush hotly. He and Lily sometimes could read each other's thoughts, and right then he suddenly knew exactly what she was about to say._

_"Oh," he replied at last in a faint voice, then swallowed hard. This was almost more than his fourteen-year-old soul could take. _

_After a while, she finally calmed down a bit, her sobs leaving off into tiny sniffles. She drew back a little from him then, and with a bashful smile, she shook her head, said "I'm sorry I'm behaving like such a girl today, Sev. Forgive me?"_

_He couldn't even speak in reply, only nodded his head vigorously as he gazed into her tear-blurred eyes. _

_"Good." Then she sighed, and lay her head on his shoulder again._

_"Is this all right?" she asked in a somewhat drowsy voice. "It's so comfortable like this."_

_He nodded again, then realized she couldn't see him from her vantage point. So instead he managed to croak "'Courseit'sallright." Naturally, his voice decided to crack right at that moment. Lily giggled, and Severus closed his eyes, his heart everywhere._

_After a time, as the summer sun dipped down behind the trees and the sky was struck copper, he linked his pinky finger with hers, whispered into her hair "You can, you know."_

_"Hm?" she murmured against him, as though she'd fallen asleep._

_"You can paint it, if you want." _

_She did. And he didn't remove it, either, till school started again two weeks later._

* * *

><p>Hogwarts<p>

June, 1995

As the semester came to a close, Severus, with a weariness that seemed older than words, unlocked the cabinet that contained the Pensieve, and from the shelf above it selected a particular bottle whose glass shimmered like tears.

There was one next to it, a plain alabaster bottle, that had never been opened since the memory within had been distilled from his mind. It would not do to look at its contents too much, lest it wear like a stone in the sea. That one, he'd save for when things were truly at a desperate pass, and he needed something of unusual power to fortify him. For now, it would be enough to sit under the cool shade of a tree by the river at Spinner's End with the scent of nail paint in his nose, and the light, warm weight of Harry Potter's mother against his shoulder.

The taste in his mouth when he stood before the Dark Lord once more this night was like slug slime, or basilisk poison. He felt as dead as Voldemort's soul was, not even shivering (the way the rest of the Death Eaters did) at Voldemort's hideous, snake-like face. For to Severus, Voldemort had long ago sunk beyond human reckoning, had perhaps never had been a man, even in the specious way that Severus had been. Oddly, he and Voldemort were quite similar: Severus, for having died and yet still existed, Voldemort for having never really lived.

But Severus wasn't afraid when Voldemort's red, slitted eyes stared directly into Severus's own. For, even before Voldemort had returned, Severus had removed from his mind every single last memory that could possibly reveal his motives if the Dark Lord managed to breach his Occlumency. In shimmering bottles they were locked away, leaving Severus's mind devoid of all traces of happiness or contentment. He knew to those who met him his face was a lifeless mask, his eyes two beads of flint, his mind a dark, dank cave, its shadows impenetrable to even the most skilled Legitimens in the world.

Now, though, once more in the sanctuary of Hogwarts, after the horrors of this night had threatened to crack Severus's iron stoicism at last, Severus locked himself in his chambers long after the castle had gone to sleep, and soothed his shriveled soul with a small taste of something even sweeter than mead.

It would not do to indulge too often; like any other intoxicant, one could grow dependent on it, and Severus now more than ever before had to maintain an unshakable resolve. But tonight, when he felt especially put upon and battered about by the Fates, he required some bright light to aid him, lest he drown in his own darkness.


	12. 1996

Hi everyone, we're nearing the end here. There will be two more chapters after this one. It's fewer chapters than I had anticipated, but the same word count I'd planned: 30,000 words or so. I'd just consolidated some of the smaller chapters into fewer but larger ones.

This one covers the events in Order of the Phoenix. The next two chapters will cover Half Blood Prince, and Deathly Hallows, respectively. The epilogue will be at the end of the Deathly Hallows chapter. Thanks everyone for reading.

* * *

><p><em>"There's Toerag again."<em>

_"Hm."_

_"Oh, isn't that curious. He seems to be following us. And his mates, of course. Is Sirius-is Sirius seriously pissing in the snow?"_

_"Hmph."_

_"Toerag's looking at you right now. You know, Sev, I would almost seem to think he fancies you."_

_"Lily!"_

_"Oh there, he's bouncing that Snitch against Pettigrew's head again. That's not nice. He's so horrible. Sev. You should see how he behaves in the common room. You'd think he was the Prime Minister."_

_"Don't know why you notice Potter at all, Lily."_

_"Me? You're the one always going on about him."_

_"I didn't even say a word about him today."_

_"So?"_

_"So? So! So you fancy him! Admit it! You fancy James Potter!"_

_"No I don't! Why do you keep accusing me of that?"_

_"Because I've seen you. I've seen your eyes, Lily, when he's by. I've seen the way you-the way you LOOK at him."_

_"You're wrong! I hate him! Do you think I could possibly fancy anyone who is so horrible to us?"_

_"Horrible to me, maybe. Not to you."_

_"Well, you're wrong! He teases me constantly! He won't leave me alone! Oh Sev, why weren't you sorted into Gryffindor, too?"_

_It was strange, to have the sorting issue framed in this way, and it made him forget all about Potter for a moment. Since their first year, Severus had wondered why Lily hadn't been sorted into Slytherin. Not once had he asked himself why he hadn't been sorted into Gryffindor. Perhaps because he knew he'd have never ended up there, not in a thousand lifetimes._

_But, if he were honest with himself, he'd also known from the very beginning that Lily would never be sorted into Slytherin, either._

_So how were they friends, then?_

_"I don't know," Severus said at last, staring down at the snow that covered Hogsmeade lane. _

_"Well," Lily said firmly, taking Severus's hand. "Let's not fret about it now. O.W.L.s are coming up soon, and I want to have fun before then. Let's have a drink."_

_"The Three Broomsticks is this way," Severus pointed out as Lily led them in the wrong direction._

_"To hell with that, I want a firewhiskey," Lily hissed, pulling him along toward the Hog' s Head Inn. "Also," she added, a wicked smile on her face, "the Marauders won't be there, nor any of the professors, and we can get as stinking as we want without anyone carrying tales."_

_"Lily!"_

_"Shhhh," she giggled, then drew her arms around him snugly._

_"What are you doing?" he rasped into her knitted hat._

_"Toerag's watching! He hates when we hug, you know."_

_Severus glanced over her head-and sure enough, Potter was gaping at them with an expression that made Severus smirk. Severus pointedly put his arms around her and held her close, taking shameless advantage of his "best-friend" privilege. He was certain that Potter's face had turned green. He himself, in contrast, stirred with a hot, secret thrill as she pressed herself against him. Merlin's beard, he would have to make sure to find some time alone tonight..._

_"Bloody hell," Severus muttered when he saw the nefarious gang make a beeline toward them. _

_"What?" She asked, looking up, then glancing in the direction of his frown._

_"Oh bloody hell," she echoed. "I don't want them bothering us. Let's go," she said, tugging on his green mitten, which still fit-advanced magic, indeed-and which still..._

...Which still, to this day, was as warm as toast around his normally frigid fingers, beneath the cowls of his sober sleeves, beneath the sheath of his proper cloak, beneath the layer of snow falling over him as he silently strode toward Hogsmeade with the students in tow, his eyes, watchful for any hint of his ancient enemy's son, veiled to all, and to all as dead as the grave.

* * *

><p>January, 1996<p>

"Severus, check."

"I think not, Albus. Rather, you are in check, I'm afraid." Severus pointed to the incriminating piece on the board. Beneath his sleeve, Severus could feel the mark on his arm radiate with heat, as it had ever since Voldemort returned. Severus saw Dumbledore's eye flit to his sleeve briefly, then back to the board.

"Oh," Dumbledore said. "Perhaps you're right then." Albus leaned back in his chair, smiled at Severus with something like paternal pride.

"You've taken to warning your enemies then, have you," Dumbledore observed over his spectacles.

"I only warn friends," Severus replied coldly.

"So you do." Dumbledore leaned forward, placed his hand on Severus's own. "You are...remarkable, Severus."

"Indeed," Severus replied, drawing his hand away. "I can't imagine why you'd think so. After all these years," he added acidly, despite himself.

Dumbledore nodded, pushed his spectacles up the bridge of his nose. His eyes, shatteringly blue, were far younger than his years.

"I know how much you despise the boy_," _Dumbledore said. "And yet, no one, save his mother, could have protected him as stalwartly as you have."

In rare moments, Dumbledore would open his mind to Severus-as much as he'd allow, anyway-and they could communicate without the awkwardness of words. There was a difficulty in this, however, since while Severus was confident in what he knew was impossible to share, he was more doubtful about that which was permissible. And those grey areas were Dumbledore's forte, as Severus had learned long ago.

After that strange, mutual struggle, Severus stared straight into Dumbledore's eyes, glad that every ounce of him that mattered was stored amid cold bottles within his chambers.

"I think, Severus," Dumbledore said after a time, tapping Severus's hand with pointy fingers, "I think I'll keep the Pensieve with you for now."

"Why is that, Albus," Severus murmured.

Albus smiled at him, tilted his head, but said nothing as he stood up, the phoenix clattering onto Dumbledore's shoulder as the Headmaster made his retreat.

"Don't assume so much, Headmaster," Severus murmured silkily.

At this, Dumbledore turned around, and gave Severus the expression Severus was expecting to see. The phoenix chortled, but Dumbledore hushed it, even as he kept his surprised gaze on Severus.

Then Dumbledore sighed, and his shoulders relaxed, causing the phoenix to stretch its wings, and find its perch again behind Dumbledore's desk.

"That is why," Dumbledore said at last, bowing to Severus.

"I don't understand."

"But you will, eventually. And when you do...Forgive me, Severus. In the end, forgive me for what I didn't do, as much as for what I've done. Good night, Severus." Albus bowed again, turned away, the phoenix once more on his shoulder, as precariously balanced as virtue.

* * *

><p>June, 1996<p>

Another semester over-another semester fraught with difficulty, and yes, even death. One more Marauder down, though the one whom Severus truly wished to die was now in Voldemort's protection. That odious creature Umbridge had finally flown the castle, though unfortunately Severus was certain it wouldn't be the last they'd heard of her.

After Severus packed up his chambers for the summer, he unlocked the Pensieve from its cabinet, to return to Dumbledore before Severus went back to Spinner's End the next day. As was the case of late, the Pensieve had been often in Severus's keeping, after he was assigned the unenviable and fruitless task of teaching the Potter boy Occlumency.

At first, it had been an interesting experiment, despite the boy's obstinance and typical Gryffindorian lack of subtlety. Seeing glimpses of Potter's life so vividly, seeing the brutal conditions in which Lily's sister had raised him, was both shocking but also unsurprising to Severus. But it gave Severus a grim pleasure to know that the boy had experienced such misery-misery akin to Severus's own harsh upbringing, in fact. And yet, strangely, it might have made Severus take pity on the boy, had it not been for other memories Severus had uncovered in Potter's mind. Particularly, those regarding his parents, especially the images within the Mirror, and the moving photographs. For there, within those flickering shadows, Potter's father embraced Potter's mother as though he owned her-and no, James, you never did. No one could, you know, you arrogant bastard.

Severus remembered once that Dumbledore had warned him that for his own sake he should put aside his hatred for James. That proved to be true in the instance where Severus's rage had been so violent that he'd lost control, and Potter breached his Occlumency for a brief moment. It unnerved Severus, especially given what Potter had seen. Severus should have never allowed Potter to know what his home life had been like. No doubt the nasty brat would waste no time in spreading ugly tales about Severus, just like his father would have.

However. HOWEVER. That was nothing, nothing at all in comparison to the fact that the boy had seen...that while Severus was gone, the boy had looked into the Pensieve, and _had seen._ No, nothing, nothing could ever make Severus forgive the boy for that. Nothing. He couldn't even be moved to pity Potter for his godfather's death, even if Severus and Black had hated each other with a severity as cold as a blizzard. If Severus could, he would discharge his duty to protect the boy forthwith.

But he could not. Stronger than his promise to Dumbledore was his private oath to Lily's ghost that the boy shall not be harmed. Should there be a life after this one (which Severus greatly doubted but hoped for nevertheless), he could not bear to face her, and let her know he'd failed her again.

In the end, Severus was relieved that the boy had not errantly witnessed any of Severus's more precious memories. To have them viewed by another would have tainted them like a fingerprint on wax.

As Severus gazed down at the shimmering surface of the Pensieve, he knew why Dumbledore had let it remain in Severus's chambers, even outside of Potter's Occlumency lessons. He knew that Dumbledore had seen the toll it was taking on Severus to be always in the presence of Black and Lupin (just because it turned out that the wretched cur wasn't Lily's traitor after all didn't mean that Severus liked him any better), to also be always in the presence of Lord Voldemort, having to live an existence of lies to all but Dumbledore himself-Dumbledore knew, as sure as Severus did, that if Severus were to continue, he required something to remind him why he was enduring all this in the first place.

Therefore, before Severus returned the Pensieve to Dumbledore, he decided to make one last journey. Where shall he travel to, tonight? So many of his sweetest memories were also laced with bitterness. Perhaps it's best to go earliest, before Hogwarts, when she was his and his alone. Back then, their encounters had been nothing but pure happiness for him. Astonishingly, the young Severus had actually believed it would last. The elder Severus, however, knew that nothing lasted, except grief.

Perhaps...perhaps this one, Severus mused as he reached for a translucent vial that radiated a wintry light. It contained the memory of the first hug he'd ever received from her. He felt he needed one, tonight. After all, Severus Snape was many things to many people, but in the end, he was only a man.

* * *

><p><em>"SEVERUS!" Her yell echoed through the snowy playground, and Severus smirked to himself as he watched her fairly fly across the park to where he sat on the swings. "I GOT IT!"<em>

_In her hand she was waving a piece of parchment, exactly similar to the one he had received on his own eleventh birthday. In a way, he'd been more excited about her letter than his._

_"I told you," Severus said smugly as she plopped down on the swing next to him, her face flushed almost as pink as her hat. "Did they send someone too?"_

_"They did!" Lily said breathlessly. "A big tall woman-a witch, Sev!-with a pointed hat, even! And she wore glasses, and said she was a professor at the school-but oh dear, Mummy and Dad were so knocked up about it! They'd always suspected, you know, but to be told for certain their daughter's a witch!" Lily cackled merrily, waved the letter in his face._

_"Let me see it," he said, snatching it out of her hand. For a moment they sat reading her letter, but then, at the same time, they both looked up at each other, smiled broadly._

_"It's really going to happen, isn't it?" Lily asked, her eyes sparkling emerald. _

_"It really is," Severus replied, his grin wide, his usual reserve completely gone. _

_"Oh!" And before Severus knew what was what, her arms were around him, and he had inhaled a mouthful of her hair. He felt his face burn with a surprised joy, but also with embarrassment, lest he smelled unwashed. But she didn't seem to mind if he did, for she clutched him harder, laughed so loud in his ear he thought maybe he'd go deaf, but he didn't care. _

_"Oh!" she repeated, squeezing him again then letting him go. Then "I'm sorry, am I being silly? Do you think I'm a silly girl?"_

_"You're always a silly girl," Severus answered primly, hoping his blush wasn't too pronounced. Seeing her face fall, he added "But of course I like it when you're a silly girl," feeling his blush grow hotter._

_"Do you?" She smiled wickedly at him, then hugged him again. "Ha!" she chirped. "Now I know what to do if I ever want to make you blush."_

_"You're very naughty, Lily Evans," Severus replied, recovering his dignity a little, though he still felt cheerily warmed by her embrace. He couldn't remember the last time he'd received a hug from anyone. Had he ever?_

_"Always the tone of surprise," she rejoined, her smile mischievous. "I bet I'm naughtier than you, Severus."_

_"Oh, really?" _

_"Yes!"_

_"You seem very proud of it."_

_"Want me to show you?" She dug into her coat pocket then, pulled out something round and crumbly._

_"We're not supposed to have them till tea, but I nicked them from the kitchen as Professor Mc-Professor McGonagall was speaking to my parents," Lily explained, handing a biscuit to Severus. "I thought we needed to celebrate, don't you?"_

_"I do," Severus agreed, pulling something from his own pocket and handing it to her._

_"Severus, where did you get it?" Lily asked in awe as she gazed down at the great chocolate bar in her mittens._

_"I have my ways," Severus said evasively. Lily wasn't the only one who "nicked" things, though Severus's source was the corner store in his neighborhood. He mostly did it out of necessity, when no one at home remembered to go to the market or cook him a meal, so it was either steal or starve to death. As a wizard he had a rather unfair advantage, but the shop owner was a mean Muggle who'd always looked cockeyed at Severus anyway, so Severus didn't feel bad for doing it._

_They sat on the swings munching happily on their treats, chattering about what was in store for them at Hogwarts. For the first time in his eleven years, Severus knew with absolute certainty that his life was going to be extraordinary. How could it not be? He was going to Hogwarts, he'd be sorted into Slytherin, the best House in the school-he knew he would be!-and his best friend, the loveliest, nicest, keenest witch in the world, would be with him. With such prospects, how could he not feel a little giddy? Before he had time to question himself, he leaned forward and belatedly returned Lily's hug, whispering in her ear "I'm very glad, Lily."_

_"Me too, Sev," she whispered in reply, squeezing him back. "Me, too."_


	13. January 1997

Hi everyone: Okay, the Half Blood Prince chapter ended up being two chapters instead of one. It just worked out better that way. This one happens before Dumbledore's death. The next one happens after. Obviously, Dumbledore's death changed just about everything for Severus. Hence two separate chapters.

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><p>Hogwarts<p>

January, 1997

In all the world, was there anything as noxious as a teenager?

Among the hazards of always keeping an eye on Potter was the fact that Severus Snape inadvertently learned all about the boy's personal life, which Severus most certainly did not care to know.

Nevertheless, Potter's romantic escapades over the years (as those of his friends) unfolded right under Severus's nose, and it seemed there was little Severus could do about it. Even worse, Severus would catch himself from time to time actually musing about their situations, as though he were following one of those silly Muggle afternoon programs that his father's mother had been fond of. For instance, Severus had always expected that Potter and the Granger girl would end up together. It seemed so obvious to him that it should be so, almost since the very first Potions class. Therefore, it surprised him greatly when Potter began dating the Ravenclaw, then turned his attention to Weasley's sister. Even more surprisingly, Granger seemed to fancy Weasley himself, of all people! A more ignorant, tiresome boy could scarce be found in the entire wizarding world; he made Potter look like Nicolas Flamel in comparison. Of course, that Weasley had fancied Granger for ages Severus had always understood. Only Granger herself seemed oblivious to this obvious fact, the way very smart girls often are about such things. Severus certainly knew this, if anyone did.

At any rate, he'd hoped that he'd have been spared all this romantic nonsense once he finally-finally!-began to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts. But as it turned out, Weasley somehow did well enough in his O.W.L. to end up in the class as well, and the hormones all round were like a pestilence. Sometimes, Weasley's pathetic mooning over Granger revoltingly reminded Severus of himself as he'd look at Lily in Potions class-at least, so Horace Slughorn said.

Severus considered the return of Slughorn to Hogwarts a mixed blessing. On the plus side, he now had a fellow Slytherin among his colleagues, and someone to talk with about Potions, someone who actually understood the art to a useful extent. The downside, of course, was that Slughorn was fond of reminiscing about the Good Old Days, particularly about how Severus and poor dear Lily were such keen students, such a shame about that lovely girl, Severus must have felt it deeply when she died, even if he had been a Death Eater at the time.

At these instances Severus would usually excuse himself and leave, though at other times, he found himself unable to move as Slughorn rhapsodized about Lily's virtues. "One of the brightest students ever to pass though Hogwarts! Of course, you knew that better than anyone," Slughorn nodded over his tea. "Such good friends you two were, thick as thieves! Rather like Harry Potter and Miss Granger, don't you think? Miss Granger reminds me of Lily a bit, with her keen mind and answering all the questions in class!" Slughorn chuckled. "And Potter! A brilliant potioneer, much like you were at his age."

"Indeed," Severus replied coolly. He'd heard Slughorn say this before, and of course Severus was instantly suspicious. He wondered if the boy had somehow gotten his hands on Severus's old Potions textbook. Sooner or later, Severus would find out for sure.

"It surprised me to no end when Lily ended up marrying the Potter boy!" Slughorn suddenly said, causing Severus to almost spill his own tea. "Not that he wasn't handsome, and a Quidditch hero, too! But I'd always thought it was you she was gunning for. Oh sure, some would say you were not an especially friendly boy, but you had such a keen mind, and I believe that Lily was the sort of girl who admired brains over brawn. And you two certainly seemed to have your share of jokes in class, those who said you had no sense of humor were quite in error," Slughorn went on, oblivious to Severus's reaction. "It was obvious to everyone that she fancied you, and vice versa. You were so impatient with everyone else, but ah, with Lily, you always looked as though you'd swallowed a whole bottle of Amortentia potion! Very like how the young Weasley lad gazes at Miss Granger-_entre nous_, I believe Mr. Weasley may win the day after all! At any rate, you and Miss Evans were quite the pair, my boy. Minerva and I had a bet to see who would begin dating first, you and Lily or Frank and Alice! Alas," Slughorn sighed, "Minerva won that bet handily. I never did understand what came between you two," he added, shaking his head. "And it cost me a month's pay, too!"

But Severus wasn't listening anymore; instead, his mind had started to wander back to the time when his feelings for Lily had turned into something else. In his fourth year, he began hearing about things in the Slytherin dorm room as he pretended to sleep, things that Rosier and Avery would whisper about. Things about girls. They'd tell some of the most astonishing tales, and about girls they'd known personally! Even girls right in Hogwarts! They'd talk about things Severus could hardly believe were possible, much less anything a girl would be willing to do. Nevertheless, he'd begun to have shameful fantasies about doing such things with Lily, and Lily even liking it. He'd always felt awful afterward, unclean; yet the thoughts rose in his mind unbidden, and when she'd, say, hug him to make Potter jealous, it nearly drove him mad.

Of course, he'd noticed she was no longer a little girl-who wouldn't notice?-especially in the summertime when they were back home and she wasn't encased in her voluminous robes. On a hot day she'd wear a closely fitted t-shirt and jeans or a cotton dress, and yes, Severus most definitely noticed she wasn't a little girl anymore. The only good thing about being back in his father's house during the summer was that he had plenty of time to himself, which he needed more than ever.

Severus repressed a sigh as he remembered the afternoon where he finally got to kiss her. It was not just one kiss, either, but an hour's worth. By the time they'd heard that odious Petunia calling for them, it was almost dark, and his lips were swollen, his body on fire. He could hardly imagine what Petunia thought when a blushing Lily followed her home, her hair awry, her dress grass-stained. Truly, there was a moment during that afternoon where Severus had thought they were going to do _that_. At one point she'd straddled him while they kissed, and there was no way she could not have felt what all this was doing to him. She'd run her hands up his shirt, and when he felt her cool fingertips along his ribs, he'd actually moaned into her mouth in exquisite agony. She laughed against his lips, and did it again. Merlin's beard! Just thinking about it made Severus's robes feel tight and itchy.

"Excuse me," Severus abruptly said, interrupting Slughorn's monolog (he was now discussing some famous Quidditch player friend of his) and leaving Slughorn's chambers. Once the door closed behind him, Severus leaned against it for a moment, his cheeks flushing. He was thirty-seven years old, far too old for this sort of foolishness! He'd thought such sensations had died out in him long ago. Evidently not.

With as much dignity as he could summon, he made haste to his own chambers, where he locked the door securely and went to the Pensieve. With a trembling hand, he reached for the plain alabaster bottle, and decanted its contents into the shimmering surface. And then, once more, he was there: beneath fragrant summer leaves of poplar and willow and ash, on grass so green it was emerald, he held in his arms the key to his heart and soul, the beginning and end of his existence, the single flame of beauty that had ever lit the dark corners of his life.

When he'd had his fill, he sagged against his chair feeling spent, enervated, drained. He couldn't imagine what Potter might have thought had the boy happened upon _that_ memory. Indeed, how Severus and Lily didn't end up together after that afternoon, he never understood. Perhaps they were both afraid it would ruin their friendship. In the end, it did change things between them, and not for the better. Lily flirted with him more, but they also fought more, too. There was an electric undercurrent to their friendship that hadn't been there before, but they also began to drift apart. In a way, Severus's most delicious memory had also been the deadliest one.

However...what if it wasn't the fact that they kissed that helped to destroy their friendship? What if it were the reverse? Perhaps part of her rancor towards him was that he never asked her to formally be his girlfriend, and she was offended, or hurt. But he'd been terrified of doing so, lest she reject him. Back then, he hadn't truly believed he was good enough for her. She was so lovely, so popular, and he...well, he was neither of those things. Back then, he felt he needed to be a Death Eater to gain the power and glory that would make him worthy of her.

What a fool.

Once Lily left him for good, it was an easy fall into the Dark Lord's grasp. What he'd held back from-for her sake-he then ran headlong toward, once he realized nothing he could do would bring her back. Laughable, that he should have ever trusted the Dark Lord. Severus had learned by now that he could not trust anyone, except for her. And _he_ was the one who had betrayed _her_ trust, not the reverse.

Whereas he'd been heated and flushed a moment ago, now he was chilled and strangely empty. He suddenly wished he hadn't left Slughorn's office as hastily as he did. Slughorn had been one of the few professors during his school years who had liked Severus, and it was clear that Slughorn enjoyed his company as an adult and a colleague. It would be unseemly to return to Slughorn's office now though, especially after his unceremonious departure.

He'd considered visiting the Slytherin common room, then immediately decided against it. The only student whom he'd truly cared to speak with, now seemed to no longer wish for his company. It was only belatedly that Severus fully realized how fond he'd actually grown of Draco Malfoy. The boy had been one of the few people who had seen right through Potter's heroic ruse, and failed to worship him as all the other students tended to do. The young man who, as a tot, had climbed into Severus's lap and cheerfully yanked on his hair, had grown to be Severus's protegee of sorts: by far the brightest and most talented student in Slytherin, and Severus's best pupil in Potions, Draco would often visit Severus's office of an evening, where they'd spend a pleasant hour or so categorically denouncing almost every single personage at Hogwarts. The only unfortunate thing about Draco was his love of the word "Mudblood," but Severus recognized very well the bitterness behind it. After all, young Weasley had not been the only one to fall under Granger's spell. Granger was careless in her oblivious charm, and on Draco's behalf Severus rather hated her for it.

There was no question in meeting with Dumbledore, either. He hadn't been summoned to Dumbledore's chambers this night, and Severus would never presume to drop by on the Headmaster unannounced. Even if, as Severus suspected, Dumbledore wouldn't have minded, something in Severus resisted doing anything that put him in a beseeching light. There were other reasons, as well.

Severus had thought that if he ever got to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts at last, he would rejoice. He knew why, of course, Dumbledore had finally allowed him to teach it: it was because by the end of this year, Dumbledore would surely be dead, and Severus was to be the agent of his destruction. This was certainly no cause for contentment. In fact, for the first time in many years, Severus experienced the loneliness he'd tried for so long to bury beneath layers of coldness and hate and pride. Now, though, the loneliness seemed to shiver from his soul like the memories in a Pensieve, and was just as mocking.

Suddenly, he knew just where to go. He got up from his desk, went to his chamber door, and ascended up, up, up the stairs to the Infirmary.

It was late enough to where there were only a couple of students amid the rows of beds, but not so late that Poppy wouldn't still be up and about. However, he knew that, like himself, she rarely slept much, which was why he was certain to find her awake.

He said nothing as he entered the Infirmary, lest the two bedridden students (a Hufflepuff second-year and a Ravenclaw fourth-year, Severus believed) noticed anything amiss. He merely nodded at a surprised Poppy, who returned his nod as Severus walked into her office.

Barely a minute passed before Poppy entered her office too, sat down across from him. She folded her hands on her desk, leaned forward, her eyes scanning Severus's face. Severus said nothing, merely glanced down at the polished floor.

She got up from her desk after a moment, went to her cabinet, which held many of the potions Severus had given her over the years. Wordlessly she took down a bottle Severus recognized, and poured a dram of the liquid into a ceramic cup, then handed it to him.

Normally, he would refuse it. But on this particular night, it was understood he didn't come here to get intoxicated, but rather for her to work her certain magic. But even as the warm liquid glowed in his veins and the sharp edges in his mind had begun to soften, he grieved that one day, and soon, even she would come to loathe him, and there was nothing to be done about it. For now though, he took comfort in her silent friendship, for the nice thing about Poppy was that she always knew the right time to ask, and the right time to merely observe. After about an hour of mutual silence, Severus finally got up and went to the door, but not before he reached for her hand, and held it briefly in his own. She squeezed his hand in return, and he let her go, then exited her office at last, fortified to go on again at least for a little while.


	14. June 1997

One more chapter to go after this one. Thanks for reading everyone. Also, sorry for all the updates at once. It's almost over, though.

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><p>Spinner's End<p>

June, 1997

Along the river, the grass, once a brilliant emerald, was now a dead, indifferent brown, killed by the chemicals that lately flowed down the river from a factory upstream. Through the window of his house Severus could smell its polluted waters, an acrid stench worse than anything one could find in his Potions classes. Not that he taught Potions anymore.

Severus turned away from the window, then planted a boot viciously into Pettigrew's arse.

"Get me some tea," Severus said coldly after Pettigrew yelped in pain and jumped several paces away from Severus.

"Oi, there's no need to do that," the rat-toothed creature spluttered, rubbing his behind.

"You'll do what I say and not. Talk. _back_," Severus whispered, stalking menacingly toward Pettigrew. He thrust his wand out, muttered "Crucio!" and Pettigrew shuddered with pain till he vomited.

"Clean that up," Severus ordered, putting his wand away. "_Without_ magic, if you please," he added, pocketing Pettigrew's own wand too. "I'm going for a walk, and my tea had better be ready when I return."

As the miserable creature sobbed and did what he was told, Severus stepped out of the house and strode down the cracked sidewalk, thinking _I have no mercy! I have no mercy! _When a drunken neighbor made a comment at him about "Sech black robes, 'n in this 'eat!" Severus aimed his wand, and the man shivered to the ground in agony. Severus knew he was turning into his father, but at this point, he didn't care.

At the playground, someone had tied up the swings to the bar overhead, so that no one could use them now. The soft grass had been paved over, and over that, someone had spray-painted "Fuck you" in a glaring pink. Like the riverbank, there was litter everywhere: bottle caps, aluminum cans, candy wrappers, condoms. Down the street, the corner store he used to filch from had closed, and beyond that, the tiny shop where he'd once eaten chocolate ice cream was now a liquor store.

Beyond that still, stood a brick house, its windows X'd over with plywood, its yard dead. Where there had once been the ringing sound of girls' laughter on the porch, there was now nothing but the echo of desolation.

Every single vestige of his life had withered and died like the grass beside the river. His parents, including his miserable father, had passed on years ago. His mentorship-if that's what it was-with his favorite student, Draco Malfoy, seemed over. And the one person in perhaps all the world besides Lily whom Severus had considered a friend was now dead too, and by his hands. All he had left was the wretched house of his parents, and in it, the animal who had betrayed Lily to her death.

He supposed it was some sort of grim joke on Voldemort's part that he should have Pettigrew serve Severus of all people. As the Dark Lord wasn't stupid, he must have known how Severus would feel it, and perhaps had anticipated that Severus would torture the rat-faced wretch. But perhaps not; Severus doubted that Voldemort had the imagination to guess that Severus could still care for Lily, after all this time. After all, it was not in the Dark Lord's nature to understand love, much less to believe in it. Or so Dumbledore had always assured him.

Dumbledore. Something within Severus seemed to shrivel at the thought of the man, and he found himself sitting down on the Evans' old porch, leaning his spine against the rough brick.

Like so many other things in Severus's life, his feelings about Dumbledore were ambivalent, to say the least. He still had not gotten over the shock that Dumbledore had prepared the Potter boy to be slaughtered like a pig at the proper time-and that he expected Severus to be the one who led him to the chopping block! Certainly, Potter was not Severus's favorite person, but even Severus had no desire to see a hair on his head hurt! Not after all these years of protecting him. Not after he'd made a vow to Lily's memory to do so. But it would seem he was doomed to fail Lily again, after all.

Severus sighed, closed his eyes for a moment, then reached into a pocket in his robes.

It was foolish of him to carry it around with him-what if someone found it?-but he pulled out a faded photograph, torn at one edge, of an extraordinarily beautiful woman, her hair shimmering like fire as she waved merrily from the page. He pressed his lips to it, then held it against his heart.

_Lily, my love,_ he thought to himself as he sat amid the ruins of her childhood home. _Forgive me._

* * *

><p><em>"Check, I think, Severus," Dumbledore whispered, his blackened hand trembling as it pushed his knight toward Severus's king.<em>

_Severus's eyes followed the trajectory of the withered hand, then pushed his own knight in the other direction._

_"Severus," Dumbledore said severely. "You don't intend to cheat yourself, do you?"_

_"Whatever do you mean?"_

_But Dumbledore chuckled softly, said "Ah, Severus. I appreciate the gesture, all the same."_

_"Hmph."_

_However, Dumbledore stared quietly at the board for a long time, before saying at last "The time grows near. Any day now, Draco will make his move."_

_"I know," Severus whispered in reply._

_"Tomorrow, Harry Potter and I must go somewhere. It is of no concern of yours what we are to do. However, when I return, it is likely that Draco will take advantage of my weakness. You must be ready, Severus."_

_"I know," Severus repeated, clenching his fists._

_"Then it is time that I told you something. The last thing."_

_Severus glanced up, puzzled. Dumbledore shook his head, then he leaned forward, took Severus's hand._

_"I see now, why she loved you so," Dumbledore said quietly. "And I'm sorry that I hadn't done more for you, when you were a boy. As is almost always the case, the Lady is the wisest of us all. Forgive me, Severus."_

_What could Severus do? Severus returned Albus's grip, hoping that the gesture was enough; he wasn't equal to forming words. _

_"She knew, you know," Dumbledore whispered after he let go Severus's hand. "She knew it was you, who had warned me about Voldemort's intent to murder her."_

_Severus sat bolt upright, gaped blindly at Dumbledore._

_"Oh, I dissembled, naturally," Albus said, shaking his head with a faint smile. "I wanted to protect you, you see. But Severus-like you, she had an uncanny ability to read minds, even untrained. She saw right through me. 'It was him, wasn't it,' she said. 'Who?' I asked. 'Him,' she replied. 'He's the one who told you. Severus.' "_

_Severus closed his eyes, put his hand over his forehead. "Stop," he whispered._

_Albus slowly rose to his feet, and ambled toward the Pensieve. When Albus put the tip of his wand to his temple, Severus pleaded "No." But Albus ignored him, and extracted a silvery thread of memory, which he deposited into the Pensieve._

_Despite himself, Severus went up to the Pensieve, gazed down at it with an icy fear. Nevertheless, Albus took Severus's arm, and together they flew down._

_Immediately, Severus was in a house he'd last seen partially destroyed, in a parlor brightly appointed, with book-lined walls and vases of old-fashioned roses. But he forgot about all this when he saw, standing by the window, still so beautiful it stunned him breathless, _her_._

_"Why do you think this?" a slightly younger Albus was asking her as she blinked her eyes and gazed out the window to the autumn-turned garden. _

_"Because who else would know Voldemort's plans? Who else would want to protect me?" she whispered, folding her arms over her chest._

_"It's not within my power to reveal the messenger," Albus replied dryly._

_She nodded, wiped her eyes. _

_"You have chosen your secret-keeper, I take it?" Albus asked then, as he made for the door. "I trust it is Sirius?"_

_"Yes."_

_"Very well then."_

_But as Albus reached for the doorknob, Lily suddenly rushed to him, and, dropping her hand on his shoulder, whispered "Please, Albus. Please. If something should happen...if something should happen to me...Please, take care of Severus. But never let him know, for he is so proud."_

_"Is this forgiveness, Lily?" Albus asked quietly. He stared into her eyes a long time, and she returned the gaze steadily._

_"Don't tell James," Lily said at last, her eyes glimmering. "He won't understand. He never could."_

_"You have my word. Goodbye, my dear," Albus said, exiting the door as the sound of an infant's cry carried to them from a distant room._

_And then, they were back in Dumbledore's chambers, and Severus stumbled to the floor, his arms over his head._

_"'If something should happen'," Severus mocked bitterly through his tears. "'If something should happen', she said! I failed, Albus! I failed her!"_

_"I was afraid you'd react this way," Albus said sadly. "Which is why I never let you know before."_

_"Why now," Severus asked with venom._

_"Because soon, you will have to travel this dark path without me," Albus said heavily. "And you must know...you _must_ know that she had forgiven you."_

_"I didn't deserve her forgiveness," Severus hissed, clenching his fingers into his brow. "I _won't_ deserve it, if what you've planned for her son comes to pass!"_

_"It is not up to you to decide whether you're worthy of forgiveness, Severus," Albus replied. And with a gesture of blessing, he moved away, leaving Severus alone in the Headmaster's chambers._

* * *

><p>It was true. He had nothing left-not Lily, not Albus, not even his own dignity, or honor. All the world believed he had betrayed Dumbledore, that he was a turncoat and a murderer. He had nothing except a promise to she who, in the end, had forgiven him, but whom he had failed, anyway. There was no forgiveness, for him.<p>

Dumbledore had been there for Severus during the first fresh waves of grief over Lily. But who is here now for Severus as he mourns the death of his last friend? Who could even know that he _did_ grieve?

It was not only the Muggle world that had darkened. The Wizarding world had fallen into Voldemort's hands, and the one thing left for Severus to do was to keep Potter safe until Voldemort killed him. And somehow, Severus was to let Potter know all this before the end. Severus made a face, his old impatience toward Dumbledore returning. Last time he saw Potter, the boy was filled with such a mighty hatred for Severus, it took Severus's breath away. Understandable, of course, but certainly a difficulty that Severus would have to navigate in order to let Potter know what he needed to know, at the exact right time, whenever that was. And even if Severus managed to tell Potter these things, who is to say the boy would believe him?

Well. Potter knew what a Pensieve was, anyway. There was always that method. Dangerous, perhaps, for it meant having to carry around certain memories at the ready, which meant they could also be apprehended by Voldemort if he should penetrate Severus's Occlumency. Well, Severus cannot let him, that's all. It shouldn't be too difficult, at any rate. Severus's soul was as dead as the grass beside the river, as empty as this house. Even his ancient hatred towards Potters Senior and Junior had fainted into a mere irritation. Truly, Voldemort might as well perform Legitimens on a corpse.

Severus kissed the photograph once more before putting it into his pocket again. Then he stood up from the porch, and for the last time, gazed at the house, remembering how it used to be, and marveling that the only survivor among its former inhabitants was that terrible sister.

Any passer-by might have wondered at the strange-looking man in the strange-looking, heavy black robes standing on the porch of an abandoned house. Then again, this would hardly be the oddest sight to be seen, in notorious and noxious Spinner's End.


	15. 1998

Ahhhh, last chapter! It is done! Thanks everyone who read, and commented, and such. I hope you enjoyed it.

* * *

><p>The sword of Gryffindor was lighter than it looked, though certainly not fragile. Its litheness was part of the Goblin magic, and one of the reasons why their swords were so valuable. This sword in particular had been contested over throughout the ages, and not merely for its legacy. It also happened to be one of the finest swords ever created in the world.<p>

Severus Snape, having grown up in a home that frequently lacked heat in the winter, was hardened to cold, though not exactly immune to it. Rather, he wore it the way he did his cloak: not really noticing it, though some part of him always knew it was there.

He worried, though, that his challenge might be too much for the boy; could Potter endure that freezing water long enough to prove himself? Yet it had to be done; the sword would not give itself up unless the seeker had truly shown valor.

Severus crept back into the shadows, distant enough to not be seen-he also used an invisibility charm to hide him-but close enough to watch, in case something should go amiss. Now, all that was needed was to make the patronus.

He recalled when Nymphadora's patronus had been sent to the castle, and how Severus had noticed (with some disgust) that it had changed into a dog-like thing. But he understood it, all the same. For the circumstances were rather similar to how Severus had gotten his own.

As a boy, the one thing Severus had failed to do in Defense Against the Dark Arts class was produce a patronus. How could he, though? He and Lily had stopped being friends by then, and he was not much in a circumstance to manage a happy thought. Especially as James and Lily giggled together in their own corner of the classroom and made matching patronuses of stag and doe, though if her gaze were to fall on Severus, her doe immediately evaporated, and she'd hide her face behind her hair. At that time Severus was too distraught and angry to produce even a wisp from his wand, and his N.E.W.T.s marks suffered because of it.

But now, he could manage one, though the way to it was akin to all good things in Severus's life: hard-won, and never lasting very long. However, in this case he focused his intent to a diamond point, and thought of a summer day nearly twenty years ago when he'd made his first friend.

* * *

><p><em>They weren't at the playground the next day. Perhaps he had frightened them off. Though he could scarce believe that, since the witch seemed to be afraid of nothing. He meandered over to the swings, and took the one she'd sat on the day before.<em>

_It was late afternoon, and the sky had begun to take on a hazy orange along the horizon. The great smokestack rose up like a slab of gravestone, but the soft scent of summer grass belied this omen, the tiny flowers dotted here and there not funereal, but hopeful little faces growing up toward the sun. Severus felt he understood that hopefulness._

_He began to rock slightly on the swing, wondering if he'd been wrong after all. Or perhaps it wasn't that she was afraid; perhaps she was merely disgusted with him. _

_However, right then, he seemed to see a slight, slender figure approaching the park from a distance-a silhouette Severus recognized from long weeks of keeping watch for it in the bushes. He tried to arrange his face in an expression that wouldn't scare her, though the thrill of excitement and nervousness that darted though him made beads of sweat break out on his forehead._

_For a moment, the figure stopped when it was close enough to recognize who sat on the swing; then, it continued inexorably, growing closer and closer till he could see the red hair, first, then the freckles, then the sparkling green of her eyes. No, he hadn't been mistaken: they truly were the color of grass._

_Neither of them said anything for a minute, they just studied each other with curiosity. But then, with a great sigh, she sat down on the swing next to him, and said "We can talk better when Tuney's not here."_

_Severus nodded with agreement. He didn't like that bossy, prickly sister._

_"Is it true, then?" the girl asked, a sheen of eagerness in her eyes. "Is it true, what you said? That I have magic?"_

_"_We_ have magic," Severus corrected her, waving his hands in the air. "You're a witch, and I'm a wizard, and I'm not making it up. When we turn eleven we'll go to a school of witchcraft and wizardry," he added hurriedly, lest she decide to run away again, "and we'll get wands and-"_

_"Wands?" the girl leaned forward, her eyes growing wide._

_"Yes, wands! And we'll learn all sorts of magical things, why, you can even learn to turn into a cat or an owl if you want."_

_The girl leaned back in her swing and seemed to digest all of this. Then, apparently after coming to a decision, she said "Prove it."_

_"Huh?"_

_"Prove you're a wizard." _

_Severus smiled. If this was all it would take to convince her, then he knew he had triumphed._

_But what should he do? Certainly, she wouldn't approve of torturing insects or making passers-by trip on sidewalks. She was a girl, he ought to show her something a girl would like. He remembered how she'd made the flower open and close yesterday. He knew what to do._

_Focusing his concentration, he turned his eyes to the grass, where one by one the tiny flowers rose up into the air. He heard her gasp beside him. Next, the flowers formed a line, linked together by their stems, and this delicate filament floated to Lily, where it wrapped round her wrist like a bracelet. It was the most sophisticated bit of magic he'd ever performed, and he felt quite drained afterward, almost faint._

_But it had been worth it, to see the expression of awe on her face as she gazed down at the bracelet, then the gentle smile as she said "I'm Lily."_

_"Severus," he replied with a nod. _

_"A strange name, 'Severus'," Lily said with a faint frown. Then, her smile widened again as she decided "I like it. It's different."_

_"Do you like things that are different?" Severus surprised himself by asking._

_"I do! Don't you? Though Tuney is the opposite, she always wants to be like everyone else. It's the main reason why we have such big rows, you know. She doesn't understand when I want to do things my way. 'Why can't you do things how other people do them?' she asks. 'Because my way is mine,' I say."_

_Severus chortled at this in approval, and Lily giggled as well. _

_"Well, it's true!" Lily insisted. "Wouldn't you rather do things your way than someone else's way?"_

_"Yes," Severus agreed. "Especially since most people are dunderheads."_

_"That's not nice," she said, but she giggled again all the same. And, right then, Severus knew that, even beyond what he had hoped, he'd found someone whose soul was the very shape of his own, and that he and she would be excellent friends, perhaps always._

* * *

><p>"Did the boy find the sword?"<p>

"He did. He, and Weasley."

"Weasley? I thought he had abandoned them."

"He returned." Pause. "No doubt because of Granger."

"Ah, yes." Dumbledore leaned back in his portrait, smiled.

"A pure-blood chasing a Mudblood," Phineas Nigellus Black muttered in disapproval from his own portrait. "How times have changed."

"Silence!" Severus hissed, standing up from his chair.

"Upon my word. Hogwarts finally has another Slytherin headmaster, and he turns out to be a Muggle-lover."

"Now, Phineas," Dumbledore murmured to the other portrait.

"Go make yourself useful and spy on them," Severus instructed Phineas's portrait.

"I shan't be ordered around, young man."

"_Do it_."

In a huff, Phineas wandered away from his portrait, leaving the painting an empty frame.

"Now then," Dumbledore said once Phineas was gone, "tell me. What does Voldemort lately?"

"He plans to take over the school, and soon," Severus replied wearily. "There's something he wants here, but he won't say what it is."

"Indeed," said Dumbledore's portrait.

Severus immediately glanced at him, studied him for a moment.

"You know what it is," Severus accused.

"Perhaps."

"Well?"

"I'll only say this: Potter is looking for it too. Whatever you do, ensure the boy gets to it first."

Severus's eyes widened.

"He means to come here?"

"He does."

"But how?"

"My brother will know what to do."

Severus thought about this. Then he said "Once Potter is here, I'll demand the students to bring him to me. In that way-"

"You can keep him safe," Dumbledore finished for him. "And perhaps it would be time to tell him what he needs to know."

"Is Nagini-"

"Not yet, but soon."

Severus sighed, leaned back into his chair.

"You won't be sorry, for the boy's sake?" Dumbledore asked softly.

But right then, Severus hardly knew how to answer.

* * *

><p>"The Dark Lord wishes to see you."<p>

Lucius Malfoy stood before Severus a shrunken shell of the proud, well-appointed man he'd once been. It hardly surprised Severus, however, since he'd always known that Lucius was a coward, and had the resolve of a sponge.

"Did he say why?" Severus asked coolly, tucking his hands into the sleeves of his robes.

Lucius shook his head.

"Very well, then," Severus said. "Where is he."

Like all things relating to Potter, Severus's plan to capture him had gone terribly awry. Of course the students wouldn't give him up. Of course the professors would rally for him-even Slughorn, Severus was glad to see. The problem was that Severus hadn't been able to impart the necessary information to Potter, because of this. How Severus felt about the acrid hatred Potter directed toward him, or Minerva's cold intent to vanquish Severus, he hardly let himself think about.

Nevertheless, as he joined the Dark Lord at Lucius's bidding, he found that Voldemort kept Nagini close by his side. And Severus knew the time had come. But how was he to manage his final task?

Severus grew cold as he gazed at the snakelike face before him. Behind Severus's grim facade lived a desire that wanted nothing except Voldemort dead. For, he realized now, as surely as he knew his own name, that if it hadn't been for Voldemort, Severus's life would have been exquisitely different. It would have been Spinner's End with the flowers in the parlor instead of Godric's Hollow; it would have been Severus, not Potter, who'd had won Lily as his bride. He'd lately understood what he'd failed to see when he was a boy, which was that Lily had loved him as much as he'd loved her, and perhaps would have taken the name Snape instead of Potter, if only Severus hadn't been such a fool.

Severus knew-had always known-that the rivalry between Potter and himself had been over her, from the very beginning. Not even Severus could rebuke James for fancying her like he did. Who wouldn't? In some strange way, Severus understood James perhaps better than anyone else had done. For it took a peculiar sort of man-one who loved daring and the dangerous heat of fire, one who enjoyed risk, and a certain amount of pain-to endure what was necessary in order to be claimed by Lily Evans.

What was to become of Severus, should Voldemort be vanquished at last, Severus hardly knew. He'd like to think he could go somewhere and live out the rest of his life in placid solitude. At this point in his thirty-eight years, peace was about the only thing he could bring himself to hope for. But he doubted he would have even that.

Lost in his thoughts as he was, he'd only really begun to pay attention to the Dark Lord's words when he seemed to be speaking of Severus having been a good servant. Suddenly, a dart of fear pierced Severus's soul, for he knew what was coming, and he was powerless to stop it-

_NO_! It was too soon! _It was too soon!_ The physical pain of Nagini's bite was nothing to the agony he felt that he must leave the boy to carry on without his help, without his having told the boy the necessary information, without having told him why...

All was lost. He had failed in his final task. Surely, nothing would stop Voldemort now.

_Lily, please forgive me._

But then-no, his eyes deceived him. It couldn't be! It couldn't be possible that Potter himself had materialized out of nowhere, and now knelt down next to him trying to stanch the wound with his own fingers!

And then, Severus knew.

_Thank you, _he thought with a wave of relief. Whether or not she was truly there, he knew it had been her doing somehow that the boy was now before him, right at the very moment he needed to be.

Severus could feel his life force slipping away, so he acted quickly. The boy of course knew what was happening, and took the memories Severus produced. Dumbledore had been right: the boy was remarkable, if only because he understood this crucial thing without being told. Severus had known only one other person in the world with that ability, and she-

"Look...at...me," Severus whispered to the boy. He had to see. Just one more time. _Lily, please._

The boy did as Severus bid him, and there was wonder in his expression, but also something else: for, as Severus gazed into Harry's eyes-Lily's eyes-Severus saw no hatred in there at all; instead, there was something he'd never expected to see from James Potter's son, but which he would have expected from Lily's. Compassion. Even after everything, the boy was able to manage that for Severus, whom he'd always regarded as an enemy.

Right then, Severus realized hadn't had to look for her in mirrors or in dreams or in Pensieves; she'd been here all this time, if only Severus had permitted himself to see it. And as the green blurred into murky shadow, Severus was released from this morbid life with the blessed knowledge that he'd been absolved at last.

* * *

><p><strong>Epilogue<strong>

"I don't see why _we_ have to do this," moaned Ron as he dumped a handful of books into a box.

"Well, Headmaster McGonagall's too busy with putting the castle in order," Hermione explained for the hundredth time, skillfully sending several books into another box with her wand. "And Snape had no next of kin as far as she knew."

"That still doesn't answer my question," Ron pointed out. "Why not-_Achoo_! Blimey, all this dust, didn't that greasy git ever clean around here?"

"Like you're one to talk, Ron!"

"But why us and not Draco or someone? Someone who actually liked Snape, see?"

"That's a terrible thing to say, Ronald," Hermione said with impatience. "He saved Harry's life, remember? And he helped to defeat Voldemort! So you should speak more nicely about him."

"Doesn't mean he still wasn't a greasy git."

"Ron's right, Hermione," Harry suddenly said. "I don't think Snape would appreciate it too much if he knew we were trying to make him out as fluffy and adorable."

The trio all laughed together at this, but then Hermione shook her head, said "Poor Snape. All this time he was in love with your mum. That must have been hard."

"Hard for her, you mean," Ron observed. "Imagine having that greasy Snape chasing after you. Ugh."

"What's it like, Harry? Knowing that all this time Snape was in love with your mum?"

"It's strange," Harry admitted. "But I agree with you, Hermione. It _is_ sad. Ron, what if Hermione had ended up with Viktor Krum instead of you?"

"Oi, mate!"

"Exactly! See what I mean?"

"I suppose. But I still don't see why we have to clean up all his rubbish instead of someone else."

"Because he was Harry's guardian in a sense, Ron."

"It's just so bloody though, isn't it? I'm still trying to wrap it round my head that Snape was on our side all this time."

Harry knew exactly what Ron meant. It was difficult to break the habit of hating Snape after having done so since he was eleven years old. In a way it seemed Harry's world had been turned upside-down, akin to the way it had when he'd learned he was a wizard. Everything he thought he'd understood was wrong. And it made him sad.

For, what if Snape hadn't hated him so? What if Harry hadn't looked so much like his father? What would it have been like if he'd had a friendship with Snape instead of being at loggerheads with him all this time? While Harry didn't think anything could convince him that Snape was loads of laughs, there had to have been something about him that made Dumbledore trust him so much, apart from his devotion to Harry's mother. There had to have been something about Snape that made his mother choose him as her best friend until it all fell apart. He wondered what it had been. Perhaps it had something to do with what he'd seen in Snape's eyes right before he died. But now, he'll never know for certain.

"I'm starved," Ron said, standing up from a dusty pile of books. "Let's go find the house elves and get a bite to eat. Thank Merlin the kitchens weren't destroyed."

"You two go ahead," Harry said, gazing thoughtfully at the cabinet where the Pensieve was kept.

"Want us to bring you anything, mate?" Ron asked as he and Hermione went to the door.

"That'd be great."

When he was alone in the Headmaster's chambers at last, Harry slowly crept to the Pensieve's cabinet, and opened the door. The memories that Snape had given him still swirled placidly beneath the surface. But, above the Pensieve itself, there stood a phalanx of shimmering vials, rows and rows and rows of them: some tall, some short, some ornate, some plain, but all of them containing the silvery mist of memory. And Harry knew, somehow, that every single one of them held the last remaining recollections of his mother.

Perhaps, one day, Harry would look through them, the way one looks through an old photograph album. He suspected Snape-no, Severus-wouldn't mind; in fact, maybe Severus would be glad to know that someone still living would cherish her memory, the way Severus himself had cherished it all these many years.

-The End.


End file.
